Light My Candle
by VegaWriters
Summary: It's not easy being a lesbian or being a lesbian in a man's world. It's even harder when your partner can't be seen with you for fear of political retribution, the administration you work for is scared to be honest about the real issues, and when you live
1. Revelations

**Light My Candle**

Shauna Kayleen Brock

Pairing: CJ/OFC (Sydney Ludlow)

Disclaimer: CJ Cregg is, unfortunately, not mine. If she were, I wouldn't owe what I owe, and I would also be living in LA, writing for the West Wing. So, no, I don't make any money off of her or any of the other characters that were created by Aaron Sorkin (or later on, John Wells, et al.) Melissa, Lila, and Sydney Ludlow, however, are all mine. And so are any other original characters.

Author's note: This is what happens when a plot bunny gets into your head and won't let go.

Timeframe: Covers the whole series, but chapter one is set in season one.

Chapter 1: Revelations 

**Thanksgiving 1999 Washington DC**

He frowned as he approached her office. He'd heard her coughing from across the bullpen, but thought it was just something stuck in her throat. No, this was something serious. "CJ?" Carol wasn't at her desk so he just opened the door. "CJ?"

She looked at him, the blur she'd come over the years to know as Toby. At the distance he was standing, without her glasses on, he was one of the more recognizable blobs. She could tell the way he held himself, and the way the light moved around him. Even through the tears in her eyes, she could tell it was him but when she opened her mouth to say something, all she could do was cough.

"God, CJ." For a split second, Toby felt his knees go weak. "Why the hell didn't you say anything? You shouldn't be here if you're this sick." He, somehow, managed to get over to her side. For as pale as she was, when he touched her his hand burned. "God …" his stomach did flip-flops. _No … not now. Not after she's worked so hard to get here. Don't let this be happening to her. _"How long have you been feeling this way?" She had a bottle of water on her desk and he wrapped her hands around it and forced a few sips of the lukewarm liquid down her throat.

"I was …" she coughed again, her entire body shuddering with the force of the movement. Toby was nearing panic mode, this could turn into pneumonia so easily. "I was weak this morning …" another series of coughs, "and last night, too." Another. "But this came on," her teeth rattled a bit, "suddenly."

"I'm calling Sydney, and she's coming to get you and you are going home. God help us, but I'll let Josh do the briefings before you do anything else …"

"It's Thanksgiving, Toby." She let loose another series of coughs.

"And that's why you're going home. I'll make Sam do all of what you need to do." He picked up her cell phone and hit the familiar numbers to connect to Sydney's cell. CJ needed to be at her doctor's, most likely in the hospital, and they had to manage this discreetly. "Syd?"

"Toby?" Why on Earth was Toby calling from CJ's cell phone? Unless. "Oh, God, what's wrong?"

"Get here." Toby barely managed to squeak out. "Get here and meet me out front. And then get her to the hospital. Syd, it's bad."

"I'm on my way and I'll call her doctor from the car. Fifteen minutes."

"Yeah." Toby took a deep breath and disconnected the phone. "Come on, Ceej, you're going home." He knew full well that CJ really needed to head to the hospital. As he stood, he saw Carol come back to her desk and he beckoned the assistant into the office. Together the two worked to get the barely conscious press secretary to the driveway so that Sydney could take over. It wasn't until the blue Mazda had raced off in the direction of George Washington Memorial Hospital and Carol was back in the press office briefing Henry on the day's events and going over the last minute Thanksgiving stuff with Sam, that he turned and headed to Leo's office. As he walked, he prayed that Leo would buy that it was just the flu. It wasn't his place to reveal anything – especially if this was really nothing. For all he knew, it was just the flu.

Margaret wasn't at her desk, so he grabbed one of the lollipops from the jar on her desk and poked his head into Leo's office. The older man sat, reading, the early morning sun streaming in through the windows and bathing him in a light that made him seem angelic. The world, in these few minutes, did not rest on his aging shoulders. Toby knew that Leo was actually younger than the president, but he seemed so much older, so much more weathered. "Hey, Leo?"

"Yeah." Grateful for the interruption, Leo looked up and waved Toby into the office. "Hey, where's CJ? She was supposed to go over the last of the Thanksgiving stuff with the president. It's not like her to run late."

"That's what I'm here about. Carol is updating Sam on everything so that he can go over it with you guys. I sent CJ home."

That got Leo's full attention. "Why?"

"Because she's got what looks to be a fever of at least a hundred and two and I found her coughing her internal organs into her waste basket." He shivered, thinking of the images.

"Is an agent driving her?"

"I called Sydney."

Leo nodded. "I hope she's going to the doctor."

"She will be, trust me." Toby almost let it slip, almost. But it wasn't his place. "She may be out for a couple of days."

"It's Thanksgiving. Henry and Sam can handle things and if we keep Josh out of the briefing room, everything will be fine."

"Yeah." Toby scuffed his shoes.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah." The second scuff of his shoes and his hasty exit from the office drowned the word out. CJ needed to tell Leo. He knew why she hadn't, but people needed to know. Especially if things had escalated today. But it wasn't his call, so instead he headed down to check on Carol – who had looked as shaken as he felt.

Toby hated hospitals. They reminded him of death and miscarriage and the end of his marriage to Andi. The halls echoed with the voices of the dead and the songs of the dying. He never saw healing in hospitals.

She was the first thing he saw as he stepped off the elevator. Curled up at the end of a tattered vinyl sofa, Sydney Ludlow's head was bowed in either exhaustion or prayer, or both. He'd never known Sydney to pray, but then again, now might be as good a time as any to start. Her dark hair, still long after all these years, remained in a messy ponytail and the tendrils fell over her shoulders like black vines. She looked up as the elevator doors closed behind him, and he saw, for the first time in ten years of knowing her, true fear in those gray eyes. "What's the news?" He could barely choke out the words.

"It's the flu." Sydney felt a loose, dry chuckle coming from her throat. "It actually is the fucking flu. They admitted her for tests and so they could pump her full of antibodies that won't do any real good. But they think they caught it before it … developed." Her voice caught. In fourteen years, she'd never once been able to bring herself to say the words, almost as if saying them could actually bring the curse to the house. "She's asleep right now, the drugs knocked her out."

"How is her cell count?" He looked down the hall, as if maybe he could see through the walls and find the room where his best friend slept.

"Low, but not drastic. She's still …" Sydney sighed. "We're lucky that she's as healthy as she is … as she can be. They don't think it's going to … develop …" Her hands gripped CJ's leather coat tightly. Fourteen years of dodging a bullet they never should have had to doge in the first place. Fourteen years of outrunning the virus that ran through CJ's bloodstream, a virus given to her by a little tweaker who had needed money for his drugs and given blood. She wanted to have the same compassion CJ did for whomever had been the donor – by now they _were_ most likely dead, but all Sydney hoped was that they were burning in hell. Luck couldn't last forever and CJ was eventually going to get sicker; she stopped herself - she couldn't think that now, right when CJ had finally been able to grasp the star she'd been reaching for her entire life, that right now God would be so cruel as to push the viral load up and the t-cell count down and force CJ past the point where HIV became AIDS. No, it was the flu. That's all it was. God wouldn't be this cruel. He couldn't.

Toby moved the cement blocks that his feet had become and settled next to Sydney on the cracked vinyl couch. He took her hand in his, still amazed at how delicate a woman she was, and stared at her dark red fingernails. There was one small chip in the nail on her right finger; the white of her nail forced its way through, defiant to the polish that had been forced upon it. Below the chip, below the knuckles, the silver and gold band Sydney had been wearing for thirteen years seemed dull and resigned. He told himself it was the fluorescent light, nothing more. The nail was what he needed to focus on, the defiance, the fight. CJ was going to be fine.

**1983 Dayton, Ohio**

She gasped as the soft mouth found her breast. The inexperienced tongue nudged at the nipple, goading it into a tight peak as the lips grew bolder. Their half-naked bodies rolled battled for dominance, the two young girls daring to cross the line that, until now, they'd never passed. Until this point, it had been shy kisses stolen after study sessions and when CJ dropped Melissa off after basketball games. Until now, they'd never been alone long enough to let it get this far. But now, CJ's father was out with his latest fling, and her brothers were both still off at school, and they had the house to themselves for a few hours at least.

This was their little secret. They didn't dare to tell their parents about what was happening, what had been happening since the middle of their junior year. This kind of thing was what got the family shut out from all aspects of the community. No one talked about the gay children. Especially the children. So, right now, it was two young women, sliding out of clothes and coaxing each other toward orgasm as they lost their virginity in a way that the straight girls would never understand. Right now, it was three weeks to graduation and CJ was going to Berkley and Melissa to Yale and they knew they'd never see each other again. So right now, Blister in the Sun played in the background, and somewhere a dog started barking, and the cat was pacing. And neither girl heard the door open downstairs.

"Daddy?" CJ dared to come out of her room for the first time all weekend. Wrapping her arms around her body, she padded down the hallway and down the stairs and into the living room, where her father sat, watching the news, and ignoring her. She tucked one of her many unruly curls back behind her ear and leaned in the doorway, waiting. She knew he'd heard her come down, and that he was ignoring her. But she was as stubborn as he was – it was one of the many things she'd inherited from her father. "Daddy?" She asked again, her voice cutting over the voice of Dan Rather on the TV.

"An outbreak seems to be sweeping the nation. Doctor's don't know how to define it, but so far it seems to be limited to young, homosexual men. All the doctors have been able to figure out so far is that it is concentrated in cities such as San Francisco and New York and that it is always fatal."

CJ shivered.

Tal Cregg looked up, finally, at his only daughter. She was the spitting image of her mother; tall, long legs, dark blonde hair with curls that seemed to have a mind of their own, and perfect, expressive, blue eyes. But now, since the other night, he'd been cut off from that expression. The look Claudia gave him now was full of hurt and confusion, but he could see the wall that she kept up, a wall he'd never been privy to until now. He wasn't sure what hurt him most, that she hadn't told him that she thought she was a lesbian, or that she was one. Finding her like that, naked, wrapped in the arms of that cheerleader from down the street. He'd always just thought that Melissa was her best friend. What else didn't he know about his daughter? Was she doing drugs? Was she … god, what else didn't he know? This revelation would have killed Elizabeth had she still been alive – and as it was, he was sure that his beloved late wife was spinning in her grave. He muted the TV and sighed. "Sit down, Claudia."

She moved over, slowly, and sat on the couch, across from her father's stern, green eyes. He didn't say anything for a long time, just looked at her in confusion. "Daddy?" She asked, finally, when the silence grew to be too much.

"Is this you, Claudia Jean?" He asked, gesturing to her ratty school sweatshirt and tattered jeans. "It's the same outfit you wore to school on Friday morning, but everything has changed."

"Not really …" the words came out in a rush. "Daddy, this is still me! It's always been me. And who I want to …"

"No! No. I'm not going to listen to that, not yet. What about what the Church says, Claudia Jean?"

"Daddy, the church isn't always right. It isn't."

"Why didn't you come to me before? So that we could stop this—"

"Stop what, Dad?" She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Dad, say it out loud."

"I can't yet."

"I can. I'm a lesbian, Dad. I like women."

"How did you even learn about –"

"There are books, Dad, and histories. And just because no one in Dayton, Ohio talks about it …" she sighed. "Dad, why did you think I chose Berkley?"

"To satisfy the radical part of your system."

She wanted to slug him, to hug him, and to get up and storm out and never come back. Her father had always promised that he'd be there for her, and this was his reaction? "Dad, are you angry because of who and what I am, or because I didn't tell you?"

"I'm not sure." He answered, honestly. "But I don't like that you took advantage of the trust I gave you and … did … what you did … with …"

CJ almost chuckled. The great part about living in a world where people were so worried about the teenagers getting pregnant, was that the gay ones got away with whatever they wanted to do.

"Has it been difficult?" He looked at her, still loving her, wanting to understand, and hoping it was just a phase.

She shrugged a bit. "Yes and no. One of the teachers at school … she is … I already trusted her and so I went to her and told her when I started feeling … funny … and she has been there for me. And no, I'm not telling you who. No one knows she is, and if they did know, she'd be fired. So no. I'm protecting her, the same way she protected me."

"How long have you known?"

"I came out to myself about two years ago. Around the same time that Melissa and I …"

"It's been going on for that long?"

"Yes." She sighed softly. "I drove her home after a game last year and … well …"

"CJ, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd react like you did … I had enough issues … it's not easy coping with this, Daddy. But I'm finally comfortable with myself … I'm in a place where I can accept that I like women, only women, and I'm fine with that."

Silence settled into the room.

"Go back up to your room, Claudia Jean. I need … I need to be alone right now."

CJ sighed and did as he asked but when she got up there, she put in her Violent Femmes tape and turned it up, so to cover the sounds of her sneaking out and sliding down the tree in the back yard. Melissa's house wasn't far from hers so she took of at a run, needing her girlfriend more than she needed to obey her father.

"CJ, wait!"

She turned, a huge grin coming to her face as she watched Melissa bound up the driveway. After graduation, Melissa had cut off her perfect blonde curls and invested in more t-shirts than button down blouses. Gone was the perky, pesky cheerleader and in her place was a woman who was going to break down every single barrier at Yale. CJ wished she had half the guts of her now ex-girlfriend. Instead, she was off to Berkley to be with people like her – and to hopefully find a way to disappear. Maybe then she'd be able to get over loosing Melissa to an Ivy League school that was all the way on the other coast. And yet, she knew that staying in the middle, here in Dayton, just wasn't part of the equation.

Melissa raced up to CJ and stopped about three paces back. Her own parent's still didn't know about the year and a half she'd spent in love with this girl, and she knew that CJ's father was still getting used to having caught his daughter naked, in bed, with another girl. She wanted to reach up and brush CJ's hair back and kiss her again, but they'd done all of that last night when they'd made love one last time before backing off into their mutual corners. This wasn't meant to go anywhere beyond high school, and they both thought they were so much more adult than they really were. Melissa wished she had half the guts of her now ex-girlfriend. She was headed off to Berkley and she was going to change the world and make it okay for two girls to kiss and cuddle. CJ had been accepted into Yale, they could have been together, but no, the only school on her mind had been the one in San Francisco, so now they were leaving the middle ground of Dayton and off to break the glass ceilings. Melissa had a feeling that it would be CJ who managed to do that.

"Just …" she choked as she hugged CJ tightly. The girls wore matching anklets, rainbow beads braided into a rope of hemp. Melissa had bestowed the present on CJ two nights ago, while they were busy pretending that all of this wasn't about to end. "Just, be careful out there. And do good. And fall in love. And just … go and shine, okay?"

"You too." CJ wanted to kiss her one last time, but knew that the neighbors could see them and that her father was watching from the foyer. "Keep in touch. You've got my address at school."

"And you've got mine."

The girls hugged again, shared a kiss on the cheek, and then Melissa was gone, back up the street to her own waiting car. CJ shouldered her backpack and then climbed into the car next to her silent father.

If there was something that was going to take any getting used to, it was dorm life. After sharing a house with her two older brothers, she thought could handle anything. But still, having a roommate was a new experience. Especially this roommate.

CJ liked punk and rock and even some of the new pop music didn't get on her nerves too much, but this girl was stuck back in the world of disco. If the KC and the Sunshine band posters weren't enough, the psychedelic bedspread finished off the look. Compared to her, CJ's purple and black bed spread, her black beaded curtain, and the colored scarves she draped over her lampshades seemed downright matronly. But at least they had matching lava lamps. And Christie didn't seem too put off by the small rainbow triangle sticker that CJ had set in their shared mirror.

The differences ran deeper than decorative and music choices. Both of them resided in the honors' dorm, but where CJ's classes ran the gamut of upper-class history and English classes, and even her math class was geared toward juniors, Christie's focus was elsewhere and CJ rarely saw her crack a book. Their only shared interests were Virginia Woolf, opium incense, Quaaludes, and pot.

At first, school was too much to even think about finding someone post-Melissa, let alone think about Melissa. Letters came sparingly, from both of them, and eventually tapered off to the occasional holiday card. But when Melissa sent her a picture of her and a tall redhead curled up together under an oak tree, CJ knew it was time to live again. If Melissa could find the time to date someone and still be doing well at Yale, CJ could do it too.

"Who's that?" Christie poked her head over CJ's shoulder, looking at the two women.

"Just …" she sighed. "My ex."

"Which one, the blonde?"

"Yeah." CJ looked at her roommate. "How did you?"

"Well, if the frigging rainbow sticker didn't give it away, the clippings you keep of all the stories about that weird virus did. Aren't you worried that you'll get this gay cancer?"

CJ blinked and pulled back, moving to go sit on her bed rather than in her desk chair where Christie suddenly seemed threatening. "I don't think it's only going after the gay community and anyway, right now … it's only affecting guys. I think. They aren't sure about much right now."

Christie scoffed. "Look you should get it by now that I don't care, just don't bring that disease into this room. Okay."

At first, CJ was offended, but she knew, somehow, that she shouldn't be. Christie didn't know more than anyone else did about this thing, and it just made it all the harder to be herself. Her father was on her case about it and her brothers still didn't know the truth … how could she ever be honest if all they thought is that she was going to get this awful thing, and die. "Yeah, whatever."

"Hey, look, I didn't mean to offend you or anything, I just don't want to get sick. If only gay people are getting it, then that means you could get it. Just, keep it outside, okay?"

"Yeah. Whatever." CJ rolled her eyes, grabbed her books, and headed down to the library. It was better than sitting there and being accidentally insulted. Christie didn't know any better, she knew that, but all it did was bring up her own fears. No one knew what was going on, and everyone was scared.

"Ceej!" The skinny blonde grinned as she walked into the center. "How are you?"

"Hey, Lila." CJ hugged the drag queen and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, taking a moment to finger the wig. "I like this."

"Thanks, it's new." Lila kissed her cheek. "What's up?"

"I had a free afternoon and thought I'd drop in and see if you guys needed any help."

"Hell yes." Lila laughed and took her hand, leading her into the main area where scattered people sat reading, sipping coffee, and in the corner someone was setting up a flip chart. "We're having a meeting here later, talking about the thing."

"I saw the news report last night …" she brushed her own hair back into a ponytail. "Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome?"

"Yeah." Lila sighed and leaned against the counter. "And all it's done is make people even more scared. They've got a name for it now …"

"Hey, that can be a good thing, you know. Now maybe they can start figuring more out." She put a hand on Lila's arm. "You doing okay? You look a little pale today, honey."

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm fine. Just tired and scared. I mean, we've all started looking around at each other wondering who is next and who has it and if just touching each other is going to make us all sick, you know?"

"Yeah." CJ sighed. "My roommate the other day told me she didn't care if I was gay or not, she just didn't want me to bring the gay cancer back into our dorm room."

"Bitch." Lila tried to smile, but it was something they were all hearing lately.

"Yeah. Whatever. Come on, what do you need me to do?" CJ smiled at her best friend. "If we're going to have people in here asking questions, we'll need to make sure they have enough fresh coffee."

"I love you, baby."

"You too." CJ kissed Lila's cheek and then scooted around behind the counter, hunting for the coffee supplies.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Lila's voice caught CJ's attention again and she turned around, her hands full of coffee filters, and found a smile coming to her face. "You're new here."

"Yeah. Just arrived, in time for the summer session." The girl flashed Lila a bright smile. "I'm Sydney Ludlow."

"Well, girl, welcome. I'm Lila, just Lila. I do all of the volunteer coordination here at the center. And this here is the world's sorriest lesbo, Claudia Jean. We just call her Ceej."

"Hey." CJ set the filters down and took Sydney's hand in her own. "Welcome to San Francisco."

"I'm glad to be here." Sydney still hadn't let go of CJ's hand.

"Where'd you come from? Well …" CJ blushed as she tripped over her words. And then rolled her eyes when Lila started making googly eyes in Sydney's direction.

Sydney just laughed. "I'm from Boise, actually. Did the first couple of years of my undergrad at the University of Utah before I decided to get the hell to a place where I could be me."

"I understand that. I'm from Dayton …" CJ suddenly realized that their hands were still joined and gently tugged back, before Lila's snickering got any louder.

"Yeah." Sydney blushed a little bit. "I just wanted to check out the center here, you know. See what it's all about."

"It's a good place, especially just for having that safe space, you know."

"Definitely."

Lila cleared her throat, reaching around CJ to get the coffee filters herself. "Ceej, why don't you show Miss Sydney Ludlow around? I'll get the coffee going. We're gonna get started here in about twenty minutes or so."

"Thanks. Come on," CJ fidgeted a little bit with her ponytail before stepping out from behind the counter. "Let me show you the rest of the space."

Sydney just smiled at the girl who stepped out from behind the counter. Not much younger than herself, CJ's shoulder length perm could barely be contained in the rubber band she wore, and it just added to the sense of contained chaos within her. Bright blue eyes shone with a sparkle for life, but carried the same wall that every one else in their community seemed to have built a long time ago.

CJ reached out to touch Sydney's arm and flashed her a smile. Somehow, Sydney had been given a set of perfect gray eyes that stood out like a storm against the black of her hair. Her skin was pale, but not overly so, and she stood almost as tall as CJ herself.

"What are you majoring in?" Sydney asked as the door to the main part of the center closed behind them.

"Women's studies and communication."

"Doubling it?"

"Yeah." CJ shrugged. "Keeps me busy. What about you?" She led Sydney up the rickety staircase that led to the event rooms on the second floor.

"Political science. I'm pre-law."

"I love political science. It's actually … if I can make it work, going to be a minor for me."

"Impressive."

"Not so bad yourself."

"What's your minor?" CJ flipped the lights on to reveal a maze of different rooms, each decorated in a multitude of colors.

"English. I am hopelessly addicted to authors from the 1920's and 30's."

"Yeah, me too, actually. I've read Mrs. Dalloway about five hundred times." CJ leaned back against one of the wall partitions, watching Sydney carefully.

"Me too." Sydney turned, looking through some of the fliers they'd crammed up here. "This is a nice space." She wanted to hit on CJ, but wasn't quite sure how to start. "What year are you?"

"Well, technically, first year. But I came into Berkeley with a lot of college classes under my belt already, so I'll be a junior next year. Like it really matters – since I'm doubling it, it will still take an extra year." She shut herself up, realizing that she was rambling.

Sydney just laughed. "You taking summer school?"

"I was going to, but instead I'm interning here over the summer. I'm going to be doing the center's press releases and stuff."

"That's great." Sydney smiled again and then turned back to the fliers. It was easier.

"You said you did your first couple of years ..?"

"Yeah, like you, I ended up doing a lot of college stuff in high school. I'll be finishing up a few classes this summer and then next semester, you know, things that didn't transfer and then I'm doing Berkley's law program."

"That's great." CJ started to take a step forward and then stopped.

"What's that thing you guys were setting up for downstairs?"

"Just an info meeting on this … thing … that's going through the community."

"Yeah. Scary, isn't it?"

"Yeah." CJ sighed.

"So," Sydney took a breath, "would your girlfriend get pissed if I asked you out for a drink or something sometime?"

"Well, since I don't have a girlfriend right now, I think you'll be in the clear."

Sydney just smiled. "Good. Now, why don't we go downstairs and sit in on that meeting, okay?"

"Yeah." CJ smiled, and when Sydney reached for her hand, she didn't pull back.

"Oh man … right there … yeah … harder … press … ow … no … don't' stop … yeah …" CJ's moans dissolved into low and incoherent mumblings as Sydney worked her hands into the tense muscles of her back.

"Geez, girl," Sydney leaned over to kiss one of the knots she was working on. "What in the name of God did you do to yourself?"

"I fell." She laughed. "Final game of the season, senior year, and I went up for a shot and this bitch from Dayton Central came out of no where and took my legs right out from under me. Made the shot though and the free throw before limping off the court in disgrace. The scouts who were there to review my basketball scholarship …" she laughed. "Well, they were nice enough to check in with me, but my game playing days were over for a while. Every so often, my back still acts up."

Sydney smiled. This was their fourth date, a weekend long excursion in tents out to the redwood forest. Currently there were still two sleeping bags, but right now CJ was topless and there was oil spread all over her back, and Sydney just wanted her to roll over. "You still play?"

"Whenever I can get my hands on a basketball." CJ now did roll over, leaving the loose bra behind. "Do you play?"

"I can dribble … you'd totally kick my ass."

"Of course I would." Smiling, CJ reached up and tucked a lock of Sydney's hair behind her ear. Her fingers slid back further, behind Sydney's head and she lowered the other woman down on top of her. The kiss started slow, but quickly turned passionate, two tongues dancing, four hands roaming. That night, the two sleeping bags became one.

"Lila?" CJ hurried through the Center, worried. Lila was never late, and never left the main room unlocked. "Lila!" She winced at how shrill her voice sounded in the emptiness of the room, and it made her worry even more. Something was really wrong.

"CJ!"

She raced toward the voice of her girlfriend, hearing the fear in Sydney's tone. She found her bent over Lila's shivering body.

"Call 911, Ceej. Now. Hurry!" Gently she brushed the blonde wig out of Lila's eyes. Why hadn't she told anyone she was sick? Somewhere in the background she could hear CJ talking to the faceless voice of the 911 attendant, but how fast would an ambulance respond to a catastrophe in the gay ghetto? San Francisco was progressive, but since this health crisis started, even the most progressive town in the country seemed to be shutting it's open doors. "Hold on, Honey," she whispered softly. "Hold on."

**1999 Washington DC**

"I'm right here," Sydney smiled gently as CJ's foggy eyes cleared and focused. She'd been asleep for almost 36 full hours, and the sleep seemed to have done its job. The fever was down to almost acceptable levels.

"Hey." CJ coughed again, but less this time. Her weak fingers squeezed Sydney's. "How long have I been out?" She didn't like that Sydney's face was covered with a mask.

"A day and a half. Don't worry, you're all covered at work and Toby's threatening to revoke your credentials until you're one hundred percent better. I can take you home in the morning. It was supposed to be today, but you've been sleeping."

"I want to go home." CJ hated hospitals, they told stories of death.

"I know, honey. But you also need to talk to your doctor and they need to do another antibody test." She brushed a lock of CJ's hair back from her forehead. Sydney hated hospitals – one had killed the woman she loved more than life itself.

"Did they intubate? My throat is killing me."

Sydney pulled herself away long enough to get the almost melted cup of ice chips. "Here, this will help. And no, they didn't need to. Almost, but you managed to start breathing better. You're loaded up on a bunch of new meds, though. I think Dr. Johnson is going to change your regimen again."

"Yeah." She took the ice chips gratefully; the cool water sliding down her throat was as heavenly as anything she'd ever felt before. "Is this out all over the place?"

"No. And Henry is doing a wonderful job covering your butt." The cup of chips made a sloshing sound as Sydney set them back on the table. "I should call for the nurse." She wanted CJ out of here before the germs that floated full tilt around hospitals made their way into her weak system. Everyone on this floor was masked – the majority of the patients were actually ones with some form of weakened immune system – but that hardly made Sydney feel better. At least the germs at home were ones that CJ's system was used to fighting. Reaching past CJ's shoulder, she pressed the call button and informed the rather blasé night nurse that CJ was awake.

**1985 Berkeley, California**

Sydney didn't even bother to try to stop the bitter tears that ran down her face as they watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. The cemetery was filled with people – young kids whose lives had been touched by Lila, college kids who had found an eternal confidant in the confident drag queen, older citizens – some gay, some not – whom had all been blessed to have this angel in their presence. But it was CJ who seemed to be taking the news hardest of all. She stepped forward first, her knees barely supporting her as she tossed a yellow rose – Lila's favorite – down onto the casket that now rested six feet in the earth. And she stayed there, crying silently, while each person flowed past to do the same. Only at the end, when the last mourner had gone, did she allow herself to step back.

"I don't want to leave her," CJ choked out. "She hates being alone."

"Hey," Sydney choked on her own tears, "Lila's not alone. Heaven's been awful crowded lately. She's happy now, honey. She's free of that body that wasn't hers – that body that was full of a disease she never should have had. She's not alone, baby. So many people met her, and they all have the same story to tell. She's not alone, baby." It was starting to rain, the pelting San Francisco rain that came in force off of the bay, and both of them were drenched by the time they made it back to the car. The windows of the Pontiac fogged for a minute before clearing and Sydney waited until she could see before pulling down the winding road of the cemetery. Peering through the rain, she contemplated waiting out the force of the storm, but she couldn't' stay here anymore. The body they had left behind was just a body, just a shell, one of so many they'd buried in the past two years. Lila was just the latest, and she was hardly the last. Forcing the tears back, she took a minute to clear her vision again before pulling out onto the street. Too late, she saw the other car hydroplane and start spinning. She didn't have time to move out of the way.

**1999 Washington, DC**

He'd never felt nervous before, visiting the home of one of the team he worked for. Hell, he'd been to CJ and Sydney's before many times – after Jenny had left him he'd practically lived here on the weekends. Sydney made the world's best beef stroganoff. But today it was different.

"Leo."

He stared openly at the woman who answered the door. Her thin, birdlike face was covered with a blue surgical mask and her long hair was pulled back into a tight French braid. "Sydney?" Something wasn't right. "Is this a bad time?"

"No. I just need you to wipe your hands off first." She handed him a small packet of sterile wipes. Without asking why, he did as she asked, and then took the mask she handed him.

The smell of bleach and other cleaners greeted his covered nose as they moved inside. Sydney and CJ were hardly slobs, but the place had always seemed lived in. Today, not a blanket or book was out of place. Everything was as sterile as possible. His heart rate ticked up a notch. "Sydney, Toby told me that CJ was okay. This doesn't seem okay."

With a sigh, the woman shook her head, passing off the burden of responsibility to the woman behind door number two. The guest room door was shut tightly against the possibility of contaminants, and behind it, CJ waited. Both of them hated it, but it was all doctors' orders until CJ was completely better. Her immune system had taken a beating, but was hardly loosing the battle, and the doctors wanted to keep it that way. Sydney just knocked on the door and cracked it. "Babe?"

"Yeah." CJ stopped pacing and turned to face Leo as he came in. Like him, she was masked, and the mask only seemed to highlight how sick she still was. For a moment, her eyes looked past him and into the gentle support her girlfriend was sending her. But CJ had to do this alone, even if Sydney was going to be waiting on the other side of the door. "Hey, Leo. Sorry about all this production … and about this week. I really …" she sank onto the bed, her knees giving out. "Believe me, I didn't plan this."

"This is a big production for just a bout of the flu, CJ." Leo's eyes showed he was frowning. "What's going on?"

"Leo …" she couldn't look at him, not yet. "There's something I need to talk to you about, something I should have disclosed when I first came to work for you, but when you deal with this every day you learn to not say anything because if you do, you'll just get pushed aside and I couldn't take that, I wanted the job so badly."

"CJ?" Leo reached out and took one of her hands. "What's going on?" He watched her take the deep, steadying breath that all of humanity seemed to take when they were ready to announce that their world was ending. He'd taken the breath when Jenny had left, and when he'd walked in the door at Sierra Tucson.

"Leo …" she looked into his gentle eyes, "I'm HIV positive. I have been since 1985, since a blood transfusion after a car accident. I've been on the cocktail since it became available, I remain healthy – my viral load is almost negligible. This is just what it looked like, the flu, but I need to be careful until I recover completely. Being sick for me …" She stopped rambling when the tears welled up in his eyes.

"CJ …" Leo took in a shaky breath, trying to find a way to start fully breathing again. He'd never known, never guessed. She was so vibrant, so full of life. He'd never have guessed even for a minute that she was sick. She had willingly, so willingly climbed into the mud with them and come out the other side cleaner than all of them, and every day she stood up at the podium and risked her neck for them, and never had she mentioned this. He wanted to hug her, to rock her and tell her it was going to be okay and that she should have told him up front but that he'd never have turned her away. And so he did, father to daughter, and held her gently for a long while. Only when his face was buried against her shoulder did he let the tears come and only then for a brief moment.

CJ waited until he'd pulled back before handing him a tissue with which to dry his eyes. "Really, I'm okay. And all of this production comes down on Friday and hopefully my life will return to normal."

"Why Friday?"

"I get a new blood test back." CJ shrugged. "This one was scary because it came on so quickly. I felt woozy the night before I went into the hospital … it just happened so fast."

"Yeah." He sighed and took her hands. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Just don't fire me." She tried to smile, but it really worried her. Could the administration risk having someone who was this vulnerable up there at the podium?

"CJ, as long as I have a job, you have a job. And you don't have to disclose this to anyone you don't feel comfortable telling … come to think of it, who knows?"

"Carol, Toby, you, and the First Lady."

"How does Abbey know?" Leo had an idea, but he wanted to ask anyway.

"I ran out of a scrip while we were on the road … I needed it filled and it was by doctor's authorization only, so I had to tell her. I knew she'd be discreet."

"She definitely has been." Leo let a long sigh escape from his body. "CJ, I'm … I'm sorry."

She wanted to give the standard brave answer and tell him not to be, but she was sorry too. Some kid had cut short her life, and he'd never intended to do it. She wasn't the only one of her generation to have this disease through no fault of her own. All she could do was live with it. "Yeah, well …" she was almost smiling, even if the mask concealed it. "I am too."

"Take it easy." He took her hand. "And if you're ever sick, or needing a break … don't put the administration above your health. I mean it. This job isn't worth loosing you." His voice broke again and he took her back into his arms. Looking into those compassionate blue eyes was killing him – and he knew it was wrong, but he hoped whoever had donated that blood all those years ago was now burning in hell. It wasn't fair that CJ had this, it just wasn't fair.

**To Be Continued … **


	2. The Jackal

**Light My Candle**

Shauna Kayleen Brock

Pairing: CJ/OFC (Sydney Ludlow)

Disclaimer: CJ Cregg is, unfortunately, not mine. If she were, I wouldn't owe what I owe, and I would also be living in LA, writing for the West Wing. So, no, I don't make any money off of her or any of the other characters that were created by Aaron Sorkin (or later on, John Wells, et al.) Sydney Ludlow, however, is all mine. And so are any other original characters who might crop up.

Author's note: This is what happens when a plot bunny gets into your head and won't let go.

Timeframe: Covers the whole series, but chapter two is the night of the Mendoza confirmation.

Chapter 2: The Jackal 

Toby never thought about it. If you asked him, he'd tell you he never thought about any of it. In moments like this he could swear that every blood test she'd had over the past ten years had been a false positive. To everyone else, she was the paragon of health – at least an hour a day at the gym (even if it meant getting up at four AM), a diet of salads interspersed with the occasional hamburger or piece of fried chicken, at least eight bottles of water a day. He never thought about it, expect at eight AM, two PM, and ten PM. He never thought about it except when she walked into a room, or smiled, or cried, or argued with him about how they needed to be focusing on the issues from the campaign. He never thought about it except when she danced around the room, lip-synching to The Jackal and charming everyone within viewing distance. He never thought about it, that's what he'd tell you.

He watched her stumble over the words in the same place she always did. She did it for the comedic effect, and it worked, and he laughed and forced himself to keep from crying. He'd been watching The Jackal since day one, and no one understood why it was so sacred to him. This was CJ, his sister, his best friend and every time she did this, it meant she was living her life on her terms. He never thought about it, never. Except every moment of every day.

Leo chuckled and leaned back against the table, shaking his head at the antics of the press secretary. The first time he'd seen the Jackal, they'd all been crammed into the back of the campaign bus and they'd all needed a break and so CJ had popped in this old tape she had of different seventies soul tunes. For a while it was just music in the background, but when The Jackal came on, he'd looked up to see CJ mouthing the words and Toby bowing at her altar. He had loved watching her mess up the words (he'd later learned she did it on purpose) and he loved how she could move with the grace of a dancer even while taking a tumble over a row of seats as the song ended.

He smiled as he watched her slip out of her jacket and toss it in Toby's direction. The song was nearing its end and she did her little wave of her hand and made a small bow at the waist. Never in his life had he met someone so full of that spark of energy, and it seemed so fittingly ironic. Of course she would love every breath as much as she did – she never knew how many breaths she had left.

He had been privately wrestling with the knowledge of two different, yet so identical secrets, and he didn't know which one was harder to deal with. Yes, Jed's condition was terrible, but it wasn't fatal. CJ could suddenly develop symptoms tomorrow and a poorly timed flu bug could send her right back into the hospital. He'd done his research and he now knew that the drugs she took involved side effects like kidney failure and heart palpitations and even lack of bowel control. He was angry with both of them for not telling him things he needed to know, but he also knew why they had made their respective decisions. Jed had wanted to be the president, and CJ the press secretary, and there was no way it would have happened if they'd told the whole truth.

He admitted to being uncomfortable with the idea of CJ's sexuality. He loved Sydney, and he considered CJ a daughter, but in accepting them completely, it meant he had to be okay if Mallory came to him and told him that she was a lesbian. It bothered him that he knew that he wouldn't take it well, not at first. He wanted life to be easy for his daughter, and he knew that life was far from easy for CJ and Sydney. He wondered how CJ's father had taken it, that initial news – he didn't know anything about that, and he'd never felt it was his place to ask.

Josh watched Toby and Leo watch CJ and frowned. It wasn't like he felt left out, even though he did. But something, lately, had changed and suddenly Leo was a close member of CJ's little circle. He never thought he'd see Toby and Leo laughing together, but there they were, blushing at something CJ had whispered to them and laughing and acting as friends and not peers.

He didn't understand how CJ and Sydney could make it work. College for him had been a sea of confusion and three-week-girlfriends, but somewhere between CJ earning her doctorate from Berkeley and Sydney graduating Magna Cum Laude from Columbia Law and both of them taking advancing jobs in their chosen fields, they'd managed to not only be in love but stay together. Somewhere between occasionally living on opposite coasts, multiple campaign schedules, and bouncing around to different PR and law firms, they'd managed to build a life that most couples only dreamed of. He admitted to being jealous of what they had. While Leo and Toby hadn't been able to keep their marriages going, Sydney only seemed to love CJ even more every time they looked at each other. He also didn't think it was fair that two women as beautiful as CJ and Sydney were lesbians.

Carol leaned in the doorway to the press office and checked her watch for the millionth time. It wasn't that she wanted to get home to Luke, it was, but she wanted her boss to go home. She'd had to pick up CJ's refill today and it only served to remind her that CJ needed to get home at reasonable hours. Not like it ever happened. One AM was reasonable, and she knew that even after CJ had ordered her to go home, that she'd go back to her office and work to get ready for the morning and then be up again before 5 AM and be in the office by seven. It was inspirational, actually. Carol had lost three family members to the disease, and none of them had ever lived life with the same voracity that CJ did.

She laughed as Toby took CJ's hands and spun her around the pressroom. Patti Labelle's Lady Marmalade was on the stereo now – yes this was CJ's seventies soul music medley. She shared Toby's silent worries, and always answered any questions Sydney had when she called. It was her job to make sure everyone knew what was going on and that everyone would be in the right place at the right time – and that went so far as to be ready to get people in their places when the end came for CJ. She'd followed CJ from Trinton Day to Manchester and she was going to be there, still taking dictation, from CJ's hospice room.

But, now, in this moment she was laughing at the press secretary and the communications director and she was still laughing when she turned her back on the party and headed toward her office – planning to get as much as possible off CJ's desk and organized before they had to be back here in a few hours. It wasn't the late nights or the early morning briefing after the lack of sleep that bothered Carol about her job, it was the eight AM medication that always made CJ cranky. By eight-thirty, CJ always needed a ginger ale and a couple of crackers. By noon she was hungry, but had no appetite for anything. By four she'd have been to the gym and finally found the elusive appetite only to have dinner chased away by the need to work. For years, it had been Carol's job to keep more than coffee in her boss' system and to keep the press off any stories that might only add to CJ's stress level. She had learned a long time ago that worrying didn't do any good – it was action that kept her going. But that didn't stop her from keeping CJ's door closed during the busiest hours of the day or making sure that no matter what, there was at least a salad and some crackers on her desk come six o'clock. Worry didn't help, but she figured it couldn't hurt either, and it was her job to take care of her boss. She never understood assistants who leaked stories to reporters or stabbed their boss' in the back – it was the job of the assistant to take it all and say nothing. It was the job of the assistant to make life easier in the morning. It was the job of the assistant to worry so that their boss didn't need to.

Sydney smiled as their eyes met across the bedroom. In moments like this, she could forget all of it. When she saw that look of joy in CJ's eyes she could forget the research on side effects and the agonizing waiting for blood test results, and even that day when she'd walked into their bedroom with a letter from Berkeley County General. CJ had been dozing that day, home early from work and at the end of a long run of being constantly tired. Over the years each of their careers had taken their turns as being the more important than the relationship, but in the end they always seemed to find their way home. She worried, constantly, about the late hours and the hectic schedule, and the taking off to small, disease-ridden third world countries at a moment's notice (was she wrong to include any of the deep south in that category?) and the constant exposure that CJ had to the world at large. But, if CJ had given in and huddled in the house for the rest of her life, Sydney was sure that she'd be dead by now. No, CJ loved to live and she planned to keep living and no little thing like HIV was going to get in the way of her doing just that. So, Sydney kept her fears to herself and when it got to be too much, she would call up Toby and they would lie to each other, saying that they weren't worried and that they weren't thanking God every day for the few more hours that he had granted them with CJ.

She purred as CJ slipped in under the soft cotton sheets and the purr became a growl as her hands touched CJ's bare breasts. Foreplay was their favorite part of sex, the time when their skin could touch without dental dams or finger cots. She loved being able to suckle at CJ's nipples, to kiss her way down CJ's bare stomach, and there was no smell in the world she loved more than the heady scent of CJ's arousal. For almost seventeen years, there had only been one person she'd made love to and every time it was as precious as the first night under the trees in the old redwood forest. She never thought about the end of it for the two of them. She never thought about living wills or life insurance or standing alone at the end of her own days. She never thought about pneumonia or KS or CMV. She never thought about wasting or side effects. She never held her breath whenever CJ sneezed and she never found herself on her knees praying each time CJ went in for a blood test. Never. CJ's smile kept her going, kept her remembering that it was only about getting through each day and not looking at the future. CJ had a saying, "never let the fall be the thing to kill you" – so Sydney laughed and loved and cherished each minute she had next to this amazing woman. It was only when she was alone that she dared to fall – a fall she'd never let CJ see – it was only when she was alone that she let her mind run the gamut of scenarios, and when she hit her knees and prayed.

CJ gasped and reached back for the headboard while Sydney's tongue drove her closer and closer to the brink. There were times when she missed the actual feel of Sydney's lips over her clit and the touch of Sydney's tongue deep inside her body. But times like this, when that thin piece of plastic between their bodies didn't seem to matter, she just opened her legs even further and moved one hand to tangle in Sydney's hair. Moments like this she felt more alive than any trip to the gym or winning any vote could do for her. She never thought about the end, never. She didn't have the time or the patience to do more than update her living will every year or to make sure that she took her medication on time. She never thought about the end, about the rocks rushing up to meet her while the fall took more and more away from her. She never thought about the eventual lesions or the lack of organ support or how her mind could be eaten away. She didn't bother to think about what CMV could do to her already shitty vision or the needles that came along with the treatments. She didn't need to think about it, everyone else around her seemed to – so why should she add to the process.

Why did she need to think about it when she lived it?

To Be Continued …

Copyright January 2006


	3. Shadows

**Light My Candle**

**Shauna Kayleen Brock**

Pairing: CJ/OFC (Sydney Ludlow)

Disclaimer: CJ Cregg is, unfortunately, not mine. If she were, I wouldn't owe what I owe, and I would also be living in LA, writing for the West Wing. So, no, I don't make any money off of her or any of the other characters that were created by Aaron Sorkin (or later on, John Wells, et al.) Sydney Ludlow, however, is all mine. And so are any other original characters who might crop up.

Author's note: This is what happens when a plot bunny gets into your head and won't let go.

Timeframe: Covers the whole series, but chapter three is back-story, back-story, back-story.

Death is not the greatest loss in life; the greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. Dr. Norman Cousins

Chapter 3: Shadows 

**1985 Berkeley, CA**

If pacing was an Olympic sport, Sydney would have taken the US to the Gold Medal Platform four times since she'd started up her vigil six hours ago. Six hours since watching the ambulance roll CJ back down the ER corridor, five-and-a-half since they'd whisked CJ up to the surgical floor. Three-and-a-half since the doctor had told her only that he had to wait for CJ's family to get there before he could say anything. Half an hour since Mike had arrived from Napa and Sydney had hung around, barely out of sight, listening to him talk with the doctor about her girlfriend's fate.

"I won't lie, it could still go either way, but I think she'll pull through. She lost a lot of blood at the scene and we had to give her a transfusion to stabilize her. She's doing much better and there doesn't appear to be any sign of severe brain damage, although the bleeding in her kidney is worrisome."

"Can you stop it?"

"We were able to stop the bleeding in one, but the other is still in pretty bad shape and there is a chance we'll have to remove it. That won't affect her health too much, provided she recovers fully from this accident, but it does mean a change for CJ. We'll know more in a couple of days. Until then, we're going to keep her in the ICU until she regains consciousness and until the bleeding in her kidney comes to a stop. If it doesn't in the next day or so, we'll have to operate again."

"When do you think she'll regain consciousness?"

"It could be as early as tomorrow, it could be weeks from now. She's in a lower state of consciousness, like a light coma, partially induced by the surgical team, but mostly because of the blow to her head."

"You said there is no sign of brain damage?"

"We don't think so. There is swelling, but nothing to indicate there is permanent damage. We'll know more when she wakes up."

"This problem with her kidneys …"

"We won't know for sure for a couple of days." The doctor gave the worried brother a bit of a smile. "Your sister will pull through though."

"When can I see her? And who can see her?" Mike looked back over his shoulder and coaxed Sydney out from behind the corner.

"Well, ICU rules are rules." The doctor looked at Sydney with barely concealed disdain. "Family only."

"I am family." Sydney glared at him. "I'm the one who –"

"Syd." Mike shook his head. Now wasn't a time to get into politics with a doctor who couldn't see past his stethoscope. "I'll talk to someone."

"In the mean time," the doctor nodded to Mike, "you can see her."

"Wait here, Syd." Mike smiled gently, "I'll check on her and let you know …"

"Yeah." She waited until the doors swung closed behind the two men before resuming her pacing. She'd walked away from the accident with a bruised arm and a cut above her eyebrow. CJ might have problems for the rest of her life. Fuck this. Fuck all of it. How dare they tell her that intensive care was just for families? She WAS family.

After what felt like an hour, but had only been fifteen minutes, the doors to the ICU swung open and Mike emerged, looking tired and worried. "They have hope." He sighed and took her hand, "I think she'll be okay." Of all the Cregg family, Mike and his wife were the two who had welcomed Sydney into the family with open arms. He couldn't stand to see the look in Sydney's eyes, "I'm going to do my best to get you in to see her, okay?"

"Thanks, Mike." Sydney didn't bother to not cry. "Thanks."

Mike emerged from the seclusion of the ICU ward with a smile on his face. Sydney looked up at him from the homework she hadn't been able to concentrate on, "Mike?"

"She's awake. The bleeding in her kidney has completely stopped. They're taking the tube out and preparing to transfer her out of ICU. She's going to be fine."

Sydney squealed and leapt up, wrapping her arms around Mike. He spun her around and then looked at the rest of the family. "They said they'd come get us when she was settled in a room."

"That means I get to see her, right?"

Mike laughed. "Yes, you can. In fact, I think you should see her first."

"We won't want to overwhelm CJ. She's going to be tired." Tal Cregg regarded Sydney carefully. "Maybe –"

"Dad," Mike broke in, "We've all had the chance to sit with CJ. All of us except Sydney. She deserves the chance to see her and see her first. It's going to be a while before they come and get us, so why don't we all go find something to eat."

"I will once I see her," Sydney settled back on the couch, "I don't want them to have to come searching." Something still didn't feel right, and she didn't know what it was or why, but there was this thing that had been pricking at the back of her mind since the accident. She told herself she was being silly and that it was just because she hadn't seen CJ yet, but she couldn't shake it. Shadows scared her now, as if something was looming, waiting, watching.

"Hey, Ceejie."

Slowly, she opened her eyes and focused on the blurry figure in front of her. "Lila?" She wasn't sure if she spoke outloud or not, but her voice sounded strange to her own ears.

"Yeah, sweetie. Damn girl, you look pretty banged up. Glad you came back down this side of the pipes though, Heaven ain't ready for what you're gonna be bringing and I'm sure Satan's scared of you."

"Why are you here? Am I dreaming?" Everything still felt fuzzy.

"I just came to tell you to watch yourself. You came back down the pipes this side, but it isn't over yet and when you finally give in, honey, I want you to know that I'll be here, waiting for you and I'll help you over. You aren't alone and I'm watching out for you. Made a deal with the All Mighty, I get to get a pair of wings."

"What?" She reached for Lila, "What are you talking about?"

"Just take care of yourself honey. It isn't over and I'm gonna keep that shadow at bay for as long as I can, but none of us are that strong. The preachers were right about one thing, there's a devil loose in the world."

"Lila?" CJ felt soft fingers brush over her face. "Lila, what are you talking about?"

"It's bitten you, baby. And I'm so sorry. I really am. You don't deserve this, no one does, but really you don't. It's not your fault. But I'll be right here behind you the whole way, I promise."

"What?" She reached again, but Lila was already backing up. "

They're on their way in to see you, so I'm gonna vanish now. But I'm here. I love you, honey. I love you."

"What?"

She heard a door open and turned, focusing her eyes on the two women who walked in. They emerged from shadow, one dressed in pink scrubs, the other in ratted jeans and an old t-shirt. Even after the door closed behind them, the shadow remained, invading the room. Behind the two women, CJ thought she could make out another, a tall blonde dressed in flashy jeans and a sequined shirt, but the image went foggy and then vanished and the room was just a room and it was Sydney standing next to the nurse, the door shut behind them.

"Sweetie …" Sydney ran over and took CJ's hand in her own. "Oh, God, you're okay."

"What about you?" The dream started to fade as CJ looked up at the fading bruise and stitches over Sydney's eye.

"I'm fine, Sweetie, really. You took the brunt of it. God, you're gonna be okay though. Seriously." Sydney took her hands and kissed them. "I love you so much."

The last remnants of Lila's visit flaked away and CJ looked fully at her girlfriend. "I'm sorry you've been so worried."

"You should be." Sydney stroked her face. "And I'll make you pay me back when I get you home."

"I hurt, Sydney … they … they said my kidneys are messed up. I've also got someone else's blood flowing through my veins."

"That person's blood saved your life." Sydney finally allowed herself to take a seat in one of the chairs near the bed. "If I could find him or her, I'd kiss him."

"Yeah …" CJ linked fingers with Sydney. "Me too." She focused on Sydney, and not on the shadows in the room.

CJ limped to the couch and settled gingerly. "I can't believe I'm finally home."

"Me either." Sydney locked the door and crossed the small living room to kneel in front of CJ. "You need anything?"

"You." She smiled a bit. "You, a warm bath …"

"Hmmm." Sydney kissed her gently. "I think a warm bath is still out of the question, but how about I check your dressings, get you into bed, and we snuggle up for the rest of the night."

CJ sighed. "Almost as good. I just need to get the hospital off of me is all. If I never see the inside of one again, seriously, for all the clichés, it will be too soon."

"I know." With soft fingertips, Sydney traced the outline of CJ's face. "I'm still … so grateful … that you woke up and you woke up okay. And I had some serious words with Lila and I told her it wasn't funny at all that this happened and she needed to have some words with God when she saw him."

CJ giggled. "I had a dream one night about Lila. At least I think it was a dream. She was sitting on my bed, talking to me about something, but I couldn't make it out. Whatever it was, it was serious, like she wanted me to know something … but … it was dream world, you know."

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. It was just the medications. They had you doped up pretty good."

"I'm still doped up pretty good." CJ leaned back into the thin couch. "But hey, we all have to live through one of these in our lifetime, right? So, I've had mine."

"Yeah, don't do it again." Sydney kissed CJ gently before getting up and going to get the bedroom ready.

**1986**

"Tell me something." The voice preceded the slamming of the door and the dropping of a heavy backpack to the floor.

"Tell you what?" Sydney emerged from the bedroom, still pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

"How it is that a graduate professor at UC Berkeley can be a conservative asshole? It's Berkeley, for Christ's sake!"

"I think there's a quota to fill. Why, what did Dr. Dumbass say today?"

"Oh …" CJ plopped into a chair and kicked off her heels. "Just that it was the media itself that fuels the rise in cases such as domestic violence."

"The media as in violence on TV?"

"Reporting on it."

"What?"

"And when I argued that it was the cases of reported violence that gave women the confidence to report their own situations, he said that women who were actually in danger were going to report it, no matter what."

"He said that? Does he look at the numbers or does he just sit around with his thumb up his ass?"

"He's doing what pollsters do I guess, interpreting the numbers."

"No, politicians interpret the numbers, you've said that to me a million times. It's the job of the pollster to collect the data and report it accurately."

"But what is accurate reporting?" She took the beer Sydney brought to her. "All poll results have to be analyzed."

"But this isn't a poll. These are actual numbers of women who have reported cases, these numbers are taken from case law, correct?"

"Supposedly." CJ sighed. "Anyway, how was your day?"

"I'm starting to regret constitutional law."

"No you aren't."

"No, I'm not." She laughed. "But I do have a ton of reading to do tonight."

"Me too. And an impromptu paper that was assigned to me where I get to prove Dr. Dumbass wrong."

"Want to order a pizza and crack the books?"

"Do we have any of that wine left?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Then it's do it. Let me go change, you order." CJ stood up, slowly, her back was hurting her today. "After class," she said, suddenly, turning back to look at Sydney, "I went by Lila's grave. Someone's been there recently, the headstone was polished and there were fresh lilies. It seemed so peaceful."

Sydney smiled, "Did you two have a good conversation?"

"Sorta … I mean …" CJ shrugged. "I can't describe it."

"Then you aren't meant to." Sydney waved her toward the bedroom. "Go on and change and I'll order a pizza with what's left of our money." She chuckled, "All this starving for our cause is worth it, right?"

"Yes." CJ called back over her shoulder. "Of course it is."

**1988**

"I don't believe it!" CJ shrieked as she read the letter. "The UN! Counsel in the Secretary General's office! God, Sydney, this is where you wanted to be!" She raced across the tiny apartment and tackled her girlfriend, sending them both into the couch with a "thud". CJ, still recovering from a painful bout of kidney stones, winced but then wrapped her arms around the woman she loved. "This is going to be so great for you."

"But what about us? Your grad work is keeping you here and I don't know if I can handle being away from you like this. We've never been apart before."

"Baby," CJ sat back and shook her head. "This is the UN! You're going."

"But what about you?"

"I am going to pine away for you every night and you're leaving your favorite vibrator for me to play with." CJ grinned. "Seriously, Sydney, you've been drooling over this job ever since you heard about it and anyway, there's that course sharing program with Columbia. I can apply for it, and maybe we can spend next year together."

"You sure? I mean, money's about to get really tight now, with us having to each pay rent and –"

"Sydney Victoria Ludlow, I swear to god, if you keep trying to talk us out of this decision after you've been lusting after this job since you found out about it, I'm going to take the mirror and break it over your head. You're going." She cupped Sydney's face in her hands. "We swore to each other when we started this relationship that we wouldn't let us get in the way of what we had dreamed of. Sydney, I'm not going anywhere. I love you and you're stuck with me from now until the end of time, okay? I love you. And that love is going to stretch across the continental divide and follow you all the way to New York. You deserve this."

Sydney felt the tears well up in her eyes. "Okay." She leaned forward and kissed CJ passionately, taking the upper hand and rolling them to the floor.

**1989 Manhattan, NY**

"Ceej?" Sydney wandered down the hall and into their bedroom. She'd seen CJ's briefcase, right next to her heels and the black blazer, so she knew her girlfriend was home from class. It was unusual for her to not respond to her name, though. "CJ?" She paused in the door to the bedroom and smiled. CJ was curled up on top of the comforter, her teddy bear hooked in one arm and her battered copy of And the Band Played On, the copy Sydney had given to her four years ago, open next to her. Her glasses were skewed on her nose, and the tiniest snores came from her throat. She made her way over to the bed and crawled across the bedspread, waking CJ up in the process. "Hey, sexy."

"Hmmm." CJ smiled. "What's up?"

"You feeling okay?" Sydney wasn't immune to the fact that over the past year, CJ seemed to spend more and more of her waking hours, asleep. Especially these past few months. CJ had been hit with a cold the minute she'd stepped off the plane, and months later she was still feeling the effects of it. Doctors had told her that it was the time of the year and that she could just expect it as her body got used to living in New York rather than San Francisco. They'd given her allergy medications and cold pills and told her to just keep on going. But Sydney saw shadows following them.

"Yeah. Just a long day and I came home to lose myself in the AIDS crisis and promptly fell asleep I guess." She sat up and stretched a bit. "I had a dream about Lila."

"Lila, really?"

"Yeah. She was just standing here at the bed," CJ sighed, "she took my hand and she looked so sad."

"CJ …" Sydney never knew what to say when CJ had the dreams about Lila.

But CJ saved her by moving teddy and the book and leaning back against the pillows. "How was your day? And did you get the mail?"

"My day was fine. Tiring, but fine. And you actually have mail." Sydney handed over a long, white envelope. "Why would Berkeley General be sending you something?"

CJ shrugged. "Maybe old patients are on a mailing list? She ripped open the envelope. "What else did we get?"

"Power bill, student loan bills, my father's quarterly diatribe about our lifestyle." Sydney rolled her eyes. "Nothing that can't wait."

"Yeah." CJ unfolded the letter and frowned. The color drained from her face and her hands started to shake. "Oh my god."

"What?" Sydney frowned. "What?"

CJ looked at her, "They … I need to go in for a blood test … they … they think that the transfusion I got after the accident … they think it was …"

"No." Sydney grabbed the letter and skimmed it. Cases like this were all over the news but she honestly hadn't thought twice about it. CJ was in perfect health. But here it was, telling them that CJ had been the recipient of blood possibly infected with HIV. "No, this … you're fine. I mean, it's been four years since the accident. You've never shown any sign of being sick. This is just a formality. We'll go down to the clinic and get you tested." But as she sat there, holding the letter, their life flashed before her eyes. CJ had been sick, more than once. There were fevers that spiked rapidly and kept her in bed for days, she slept all the time, and it took her forever to recover from even the simplest cold. Why hadn't they thought of this before? "You're okay, Sweetie." She put down the letter. "Really, you have to be." When she looked up, she saw shadows.

"You'll be fine …" Tears streamed down Sydney's cheeks. "Really, we'll get you on the cocktail and you'll be fine. You're healthy, CJ, and it's only HIV … thank God. You …" She crumpled the test results in her hand. "You're healthy. That isn't going to change." When her ranting was greeting with silence, she looked over to see CJ still standing by the window, her arms wrapped around her waist. Rain pelted against the glass, the drops leaving muddy rivers in their wake. "Baby?" Sydney's voice caught and she walked forward, going to put her hand on CJ's back. "Honey, please say something."

CJ shook her head and looked down, watching the trail of one of the raindrops. "What am I supposed to say?" She said after a long minute. "What am I supposed to do? I'm dying, Sydney."

"You aren't. God, CJ, they said you're lucky. It's just the first stage of the virus and they can manage it –"

"They can't manage anything." She rested her head against the window. "The current administration is lost when it comes to any kind of support for … God, I'm a "people with" now. I'm a statistic. I'm something I study …" The thud her palm made as it connected with the window pane was dull compared to the anger welling up inside of her. "All I did was get into a car accident."

"I know."

"I'm not going to be here to watch your hair turn gray. I'm not going to be around long enough to achieve everything we want to achieve."

"Don't say that."

"Average life span?" CJ was shaking.

"Claudia Jean, you've lived with this for four years and they're just now finding out about it. There isn't any reason that you won't live another forty. You'll be choosing my nursing home, honey. Some place for old liberal loonies." She ran her hand up CJ's back, finally moving to rest her head against the t-shirt clad shoulder in front of her. "Sweetie, this doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything. I can get … God, what if work makes me disclose this for insurance purposes? What if …"

"So you don't say a word. Don't say anything and they can't fire you."

"Is that your legal advice, counselor?"

"Yes." Sydney sighed. "It is. But I mean it, you're going to be fine."

CJ couldn't respond. All she could do was stare at the ground far below, the throngs of umbrellas and under them, people huddled to stay dry. All these people, going around, oblivious to the fact that so many people around them were dying. Never before had she realized what a silent predator death was. But he wasn't invisible. When she looked back over her shoulder, she could see the shadow in the room and she couldn't stand it. So she just pulled away and walked back down the short hallway.

CJ didn't even bother turning on lights as she made her way back into the bedroom. Still by the window, Sydney could hear the bedsprings creak as CJ collapsed onto the aging mattress. And Sydney found herself running for the bathroom to vomit. This couldn't be happening. It was a fake result, a false positive. People got those all the time. There was no way in hell that CJ had this. No way.

She managed to wipe her mouth and drink some of the tap water before moving into the bedroom. CJ lay on her back, staring at the ceiling in the dusky light. "I've never noticed the patterns in the paint chips before..."

"CJ..."

"Seriously, they're beautiful." CJ's voice was dull, a lack of emotion that worried Sydney.

She came over and laid down next to her, taking position on her back and staring up at the ceiling as well. She couldn't see the beauty that CJ was seeing, but she knew CJ was seeing it. Somehow their hands joined and Sydney squeezed tightly. "You know I'm right here next to you, right? Forever."

"Let's not do this, not yet, okay? I mean, they want me back in three months, that's when we'll have a more definite idea."

"CJ."

"I'm not going to make any decisions about medications until I get a follow up test. Until then, life goes on as normal. I mean it, Sydney. I..." her voice cracked. "I won't let this..."

"Honey..."

"No." She closed her eyes, as if that would ward off the onslaught of emotion. "No. Don't. You already sound like you are planning my funeral. I can't take it."

"Okay." Sydney squeezed her hand again. "We wait three months." But it was futile, and they both knew it. Three months would only add to the tension, and would only go to show that her body was still infected with this virus. Never before had she felt such love for a person, and yet such hatred for the world. How dare God go and do this to her?

"That's what you meant, wasn't it …" CJ looked at the figure who stood near the bed. "That's what you meant that night … when I woke up in the hospital."

"Yeah, baby." Lila sighed and walked over. She knelt near the bed and touched CJ's arm with soft fingertips. "And I meant what I said, I'm gonna watch over you. You've got things to do with your life. You've been blessed by God, and it's not your fault that the devil found a way to touch you too."

"Why me?" CJ didn't want to cry, but the tears were welling up anyway. "Why me?"

"Why me?" Lila shrugged. "It doesn't care who it touches, it just touches. Don't let it defeat you, honey."

CJ rolled away and buried her face in the pillow to smother her tears. Someone else's blood was running through her veins, someone else had given this to her. She could feel the differences like spider webs, clogging her passages and clamping a hand around her heart. "It isn't fair," she sobbed quietly, feeling Lila's hand on her back. "God, it isn't fair."

"It never is, Ceejie. It never is."

Sydney stared blankly at the pamphlets, the numbers for the counselors, and the piece of white paper that sealed CJ's fate. In the bedroom, CJ slept, having finally given in to the exhaustion and shock of the day. Sleep was beyond Sydney.

This disease was nothing new to either of them. She'd lost count of how many people they'd buried over the years, how many friends were still battling it. But now, it was different. Now, it wasn't a funeral to help plan for or the reminder that Angel or David was in the hospital and it was their turn to go and sit watch. Now, it meant pills in the medicine cabinet and watching for changes in weight and sleep and keeping an eye out for lesions and tests for cervical cancer. Now it meant living wills and official power of attorney. For the first time in the five years they'd been together, Sydney found herself facing a future that might not include CJ.

Tears floated in her vision as she stared at "HIV and your partner". She couldn't read anything anymore; she couldn't be the lawyer, the strong one, the one who would work everything out. She couldn't. It was too much. All she could do was be here and help and be strong and help CJ work everything out. For five minutes, right after CJ had fallen asleep, she'd contemplated leaving. But she couldn't. CJ was her partner, and they were in this together, no matter what.

"Sydney..."

"God!" She felt her body jump at least six feet and turned to stare at CJ. She stood in front of her, dressed in a pair of black satin PJ pants and an old Ministry tour tank. Her long hair was up in a ponytail and her face looked freshly scrubbed, as if she'd tried to wash away the tear stains. Her perfectly expressive blue eyes were haunted, revealing the terror beneath the shield she was trying to keep up. "Sweetie, I'm sorry, you just scared me."

"I noticed." CJ came forward a few paces and flipped on the overhead light, shutting out the night of New York and bringing the walls closer around them. Suddenly the world was four off-white walls, pictures of family and friends, the framed prints of Van Gogh and Picasso, a battered faux-leather couch, a glass dining table, two second hand chairs, the tape player, and piles of papers all relating to the world of HIV. Suddenly the world was smaller, two women and a disease that floated between them. "I didn't mean to."

"No, it's okay. I was just..."

"Yeah, me too." Their hands found each other and their fingers linked - red and pearl nail polish graced perfectly manicured nails, and matching silver rings decorated well cared for fingers. It all looked perfect, comfortable and it felt distinctly unreal.

"How are you feeling, seriously?"

CJ pulled away and walked to the window, staring past her reflection and down into the alley below. Across the small space between the walk up tenements, CJ could see into the apartment of the family from Puerto Rico. The mother was cooking dinner, the father read the paper, and the older children took turns with the baby. In that family, the problems were trying to learn English, trying to afford health care, and making sure that the authorities knew they were in this country legally. They had no cares for the neighbor across the way; they didn't know she was dying. "Alone."

"Ceej..."

She just stared at the family, and then refocused her eyes back to her reflection. Twelve hours ago, she'd have stared at herself and chuckled at the breasts that would never grow larger and turned a few times in the mirror, making sure that it was just water retention and not actual weight gain that was making her stomach stick out a bit. She'd have fingered her hair and decided it was time to cut and re-perm it. She'd have made a flippant comment about needing a pedicure. Now she just stared, seeing her body not as a whole but as jagged corners and angles, geometric shapes put together haphazardly and bound with a thin covering of flesh-colored masking tape. "Remember nineteen-eighty-three?" She asked, softly.

"Yeah. I was preparing to transfer to Berkeley for the eighty-four school year." She wanted to smile. "I came out to my folks."

CJ almost chuckled. "I was about to start my first ... I ... right before I moved, my father found out about me. Caught me in bed with the cheerleader from down the street..." any other night they'd have laughed at the retelling of this story. "And when I came down to talk to him about it later that weekend, he was watching Dan Rather on the news and they were talking about the virus and I remember this shiver going up my spine, like I knew it would be impacting me forever. I always assumed it was because of my friends I've lost..."

"Ceej..." Sydney tried again.

"Don't hate me for what I'm about to say, okay?"

"Yeah." Sydney felt a knot in her stomach.

"If you want to leave, if you can't handle it, if at any time you need to go, do it. I won't hate you for it. I won't make you leave tonight if you think you can't do it and I won't kick you out when I'm on my death bed ... I went through a period of a few minutes where I wanted to, where I wanted you to go and not see me get sick, but then I realized that I can't survive this without you. But if you can't handle it, Baby, go when you need to."

"CJ..." Sydney wanted to scream at her, but couldn't. "Thank you, but," she went and put her arms around her girlfriend, "we're in this together. We can't get married, but in sickness and in health applies to people like us too. I love you," she lifted CJ's hand and touched the simple silver band, "and when we exchanged rings last year before I came to New York, I meant every word I said to you. Every word. I'm in this for the long haul with you. I won't lie, I know it's going to be hard and I thought about leaving, just up and going, but I can't. I'd be back here in an hour. We're partners. This is a part of us now and I'll be right here through everything."

"Promise me you'll keep talking to me, that even if you think it's going to be hard for me to hear, that you'll let me know how you're feeling. Promise me."

"I promise." She pulled CJ closer. "You do the same."

"I promise." CJ leaned back into Sydney's arms. "I love you."

"I love you. I've loved you since that very first glance at the center in Berkeley."

CJ giggled, "You are such a hopeless sap of a romantic."

"So are you." Sydney ran her fingers along CJ's stomach and then up under her shirt, needing to actually feel their skin touch. "It's going to be hard and I'm going to be dominating for a while ... "

"I know. But this can't take over our lives. I've still got a thesis to finish and you have your work at the UN and I'm not going to let this just take over. I can't. It will destroy me faster than any virus could think about."

"Then I promise. It's a hard promise to make, but I'll try."

CJ was tempted to make a Yoda reference, but changed her mind. "That's all I ask."

Sydney kissed her neck and then moved up to her ear, nibbling gently. "Can I take you back to bed?"

"Yeah." CJ turned in her arms and sighed, "Tonight marks the beginning of only safe sex ... you know that, right?"

"CJ, the chance of you passing this along to me is so minimal..."

"All it takes is that minimal chance, Sydney. I won't. I mean that."

"Then safe sex it is." Sydney smiled. "If that's the one thing you're demanding, then I can be right there."

CJ took Sydney's face in her hands and kissed her passionately. "It's not the only thing I'm demanding."

They left the shadows in the living room, but when Sydney looked back over her shoulder at CJ, who followed, she could have sworn she saw the image of Lila reflected in the windowpane.

**1990**

Sydney stared helplessly at the security line and then hugged CJ again, tightly. "Call me when you get in tonight, and don't forget that your body is still on New York time right now so adjust your pill taking time back in San Francisco. And don't forget that you've got that doctor's appointment tomorrow and …"

"Hey," CJ shouldered her backpack, "Baby, I'm going to be fine and I'm only going to be gone about another year, okay? I'll finish up my work at school, get this damned thesis done, and I'll be back here in no time."

"Just take care of yourself and watch for symptoms. And …" she sighed and shook her head, "I'm sorry."

CJ kissed her gently, not really caring what anyone passing by thought of them. "We've done this before, Syd."

"Last time …"

"I was still sick last time, we just didn't know it. Anyway, most of this last year is going to be teaching and finishing my thesis. I'll take care of myself."

"Get your blood tests and …" Her arms tightened around CJ. "God, why do you have to go back? I'm going to be living in fear …"

"You're going to be working, Sweetheart. You need to keep doing your job, okay? We have that rule, and you can't forget it. Life as normal."

"Yeah." Sydney kissed her again. "Call me when you get back. I love you."

"I love you too." With a last kiss, CJ turned and headed for the security line. Sydney stood and waited until she couldn't see the strawberry red hair floating above the crowd any longer, and when she finally made it out to a cab, she cried the whole way home.

**1991 Berkeley, CA**

"Congratulations, Sweetheart!" Tal Cregg embraced his only daughter tightly, "This is a wonderful day for the Cregg family."

"Isn't that what you said when Mike took over the vineyard from Papa Cregg?" CJ giggled and sipped at the wine Mike had developed specifically for this day.

"Well," Mike laughed, "there are only two important things in this family – a good glass of wine and a good education. In that order."

CJ shook her head and reached for a piece of the cheese Mike had brought down as well. The hotel suite they'd chosen for the party was now mostly empty, her friends having come down to congratulate her earlier. It was always nerve-racking to have her family in the same room with Sydney. After seven years, her family had come to like Sydney, but she was always on edge and wondering when her stepmother would say something stupid. And she knew that Sydney was also nervous, and that only made her even more on edge. The last time they'd all been together had been the Christmas when she'd told them of her HIV status and the memories of the arguments were still fresh in everyone's mind.

"When's the thesis being published, little sis?" Tim poured another glass of wine and settled next to his wife. Their daughter, Hogan, was racing around the room, as tired kids tended to do. CJ was counting the seconds until she fell over right where she was and slept.

"Berkeley's publishing group has it on the press now, so soon."

"And you're …"

"I'm going to be working for Simon, Hawke, and Casey. I'll be heading up the research department – the firm is moving beyond just basic public relations but into polling samples."

Sydney hung back at the wall, watching CJ as she talked about what the plans were and where they'd be going. Not even the shadow of death that followed them everywhere could hurt today. Two years of advanced pre-k programs, twelve years of school, and eight years of graduate work had given CJ her dream. Now they'd be together in New York, changing the system and working for the betterment of everyone. Medical advancements were giving people with HIV the chance to live longer and longer and every day doctors talked about being one step closer to a cure. Maybe, just maybe, in this lifetime, Sydney would stop looking over her shoulder and praying for the Dark Angel to go away.

**1993 New York City**

"You're CJ Cregg, right?" He looked down at the resume and business card again, "Excuse me, Dr. Cregg."

"CJ's fine. And you're Toby Zeigler, Esquire, right?"

"Toby's fine." He grumbled good-naturedly and handed her a pile of polling numbers. "Analyze this, get back to me, and let me know where we can go from here."

"We're thirty-six points down."

"So let's make sure we only lose by thirty-five. That's your job." He grinned. "Teach me how to use these numbers to communicate to the public. You can use that empty office down the hall. Kick the interns out of it."

"Will do." CJ smiled again and made her way down the hall.

Toby watched her walk, and then followed her. "I read your book, by the way."

"You did?" CJ blinked and turned around, clutching the papers to her chest.

Toby chuckled. "Yeah. 'To say that the inner cities are under represented is as cliché as a Republican citing Lincoln. Yet, inner city populations are the under-educated, under-funded, ghetto class that the wealthy choose by and large to ignore. Inner-city populations are not just black and Hispanic, but poor and white, poor and homosexual, poor and dying. The people who most need representation are the ones who get it the least, and they are the ones who are not taught that it is their right as Americans to be represented.' An interesting way to start your work – to pose a cliché and then spend the first page defending it."

"Did I convince you?"

"I hardly needed convincing, but I know that you convinced a lot of people. It was good work."

"Thanks." CJ turned and walked into the office, kicked the interns out, and set her papers down. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to figure out how to represent the under represented."

"Are you free for dinner tonight?" Toby was entranced. "I'd like to continue this conversation."

"If you're asking me out, you should know that I'm in a relationship."

"I'm engaged. I just want to talk more." Toby grinned and ducked his head. It was just like women to assume that a guy was hitting on her when he asked her for dinner. "I'll even bring Andrea along and you can bring …"

"Sydney," CJ supplied, not even looking up from what she was reading. "Sydney Ludlow, chief counsel to the Secretary General of the UN."

"All right." Toby grinned and walked out of the office. Yes, he was now enjoying himself.

"You know something?" CJ came into the small office where Toby had holed himself up to watch the election returns. She handed him a beer and then settled down on the arm of his chair.

"What's that?"

"We're going to lose by thirty-four points."

Toby looked up at her for a minute, wanting to be irritated, but then just started to laugh. He couldn't help it when he saw the sparkle in her eyes or the lilt of her mouth. "I told you to make sure we'd lose by thirty-five."

"Well, I guess I didn't exactly achieve the goals you set out for me." They clinked beers and CJ grinned. "I'm really glad we met, Tobus."

"Me too, Jeaneane." He covered her hand with his own and squeezed. "And I like Sydney too. And anytime the two of you feel like …"

"Oh shut up." She laughed and took another sip of the beer. After a moment of watching the returns, she looked back at him, "We're moving to Washington."

"Really? Following me down there?" Toby was leaving as soon as the office was cleaned up to go down to Baltimore and marry his fiancé and help her get elected to the US House of representatives.

"Sydney was offered Chief of Staff to Senator John Hoynes."

"Wow. And she's leaving the UN to take it?" Toby didn't like Hoynes. He didn't care if the guy was being hailed as the Messiah for the moderate democrats. Toby wasn't exactly a moderate democrat.

"She's ready to move on and I've been offered political director at EMILY's list. So, we'll be within harassment distance of you."

Toby laughed and squeezed her hand again. "Good. I like having you around."

"Toby …" CJ moved so that she was sitting across from him. "There's something I want you to know."

"You're not really a lesbian and you're lusting after me?" He took another swig of beer.

"Funny boy." She reached over and turned off the TV, thereby demanding his full attention. "Over these few months we've become friends and … this is something that barely anyone knows, but I want you to know."

"CJ," gone was the light from his eyes. Everything in the room changed as he took her hands. "What is it?"

"I'm HIV positive."

A wind tunnel formed in his ears, racing back through his brain, eliminating all sound and sucking the air from his body. He knew he hadn't heard her right. "You're what?"

**1994 Washington DC**

She hated entering a dark apartment, especially when she knew CJ was home. More and more, as the years passed and CJ continued to react well to the drugs, Sydney was almost able to forget the shadow that loomed in every aspect of their lives. CJ was healthy and comfortable and she went jogging every day with the recently elected Congresswoman Wyatt and she drank too much with Toby every weekend and she was making a name for herself in national circles.

More and more, Sydney told herself that she didn't have the time to worry about CJ's health. Senator Hoynes kept her hopping, and she was starting to believe that he actually might be the godsend the democrats needed. But she still had her doubts about the guy, doubts that were making her consider very seriously the job opportunity she'd been handed today. It was easy to almost forget that CJ had to take her pills because it was just a part of their daily lives. It was easy to stop lying to herself for a few minutes a day – and just try to forget. She tried, anyway. She'd been trying for five years – one of these days it would actually succeed.

"Sweetie?" She called as she walked down the hallway of the small Arlington apartment they'd fallen in love with. The bedroom light was on and the door partially ajar. She poked her head in, and every worry she'd ever told herself she'd forgotten raced right back to the surface. CJ was lying under the covers, the electric blanket on, and still shivering from the effects of a fever. "Oh, God." She dropped her briefcase, forgot about the news of the job offering, and raced to CJ's side. "Oh, honey, why didn't you call me at work. God, we need to get you to a hospital."

"I'm okay, it's just a fever …"

"Stop it." Sydney dialed CJ's doctor's number. "Stop it."

The shadow loomed.

"She's going to be okay." Dr. Roger Hawthorne gave Sydney a reassuring smile as he motioned for her to take a seat in one of the uncomfortable waiting area chairs.

"What caused the fever?"

"It's actually an infection in her kidneys. She's always been prone to kidney disease, and the medications that she is on right now are actually … one of the side effects is weakened renal support."

"Yeah, when her doctor in New York put her on it, he cautioned her … but said it was the best course of action."

"It was four years ago. I've already called and consulted with her initial doctor and we've decided that it would be best to completely take her off all her medications for a while. We're going to treat the kidney infection with IV antibiotics and then just give her body time to rest. After six months, we'll retest and see where her anti-body level is."

"Are her t-cells low enough for it to have progressed to AIDS?"

"Not yet. CJ is surprisingly healthy. The symptoms she's shown over the past nine years have been relatively minor and her t-cell levels, while experiencing periods where they do drop, remain at a good level. As we learn more and more about this disease, we're discovering that there are actually a surprising number of cases like CJ. In the initial case studies, AIDS was shown to be completely debilitating and once someone was diagnosed, they could expect a measurable decline in life. But in many cases, and CJ is one of these cases, the person who is infected goes through attacks and then periods of remission. While in remission, the virus continues to reproduce, but the sufferer can lead a completely normal life with no symptoms at all."

"Eventually, though, those periods of remission are going to be fewer and far between, right?"

"Eventually, yes. But with how healthy CJ is, it could be years."

"How close is she to renal failure?" Sydney winced and realized she'd pulled a nail off below the skin line.

"No where near it, actually. The infection will clear up and she'll be back to normal. I'll want to monitor her, though, and I might make the decision to put her on a medication for her kidneys for a while, just to strengthen them. And eventually we're going to have to put her back on the cocktail. But, right now, let's flush her system and see how it goes. Her fever is coming down and she's resting peacefully. Do you want to go see her?"

"Of course."

"You're kidding, right?" CJ leaned against the fridge as she watched Sydney put together her famous beef stroganoff. "You had a week when I was in the hospital to tell me this and you're just now bringing it up?" It was impossible to keep the irritation from her voice, "Sydney, would you stop protecting me?"

"Hey," she snapped louder than she wanted to, but it couldn't be helped. "First off, I'll protect you as much as I want to protect you. You put on this brave face and walk around and you don't tell me that you're getting sick again, just to protect me! I can do things like not mention what's going on at work while you are in the hospital! Jesus, CJ, let's not get into how mad I have a right to be right now. You _knew _something was wrong!" She dumped the sour cream onto the noodles and started stirring. "Anyway, moving back to California got bumped off the top of my list when Roger said that you'd be in and out of his office having your blood tested for the next few months. Somehow, moving away from you while you are no longer in remission isn't exactly what I want to be doing with my time right now."

"It's the ACLU, Sydney. The whole California chapter. Not to mention the teaching position that goes along with it at USC!"

"I'm fully aware of the job offer, CJ." Cool hands touched her heated back and she turned, leaving the noodles to simmer for a minute. Her gray eyes met CJ's blue ones and she leaned in to kiss her. "And I know the promise that we made to each other, but I can't be away from you right now. I can't even think about it. What if I hadn't been here to come home and find you …"

"Why don't I look for a job in California?" CJ wrapped her arms around Sydney's waist as the other woman turned back to the stove. "I love EMILY's list, but I also wouldn't mind something that pays a little bit more. Anyway, I miss California. You go ahead, find us a place, and I'll follow as soon as I can find something. We'll be apart maybe a few weeks."

"You. The militant feminist in the family. You. Leaving EMILY's list? You must love me." She smiled when she felt CJ's laughter.

"Yeah, I do."

"Are you up to setting the table?"

"Yeah." CJ took a minute though and closed her eyes; still wanting to scream and yell, but it wasn't Sydney she was upset with. She hated this; the predator in her veins, the killer she lived with. She tried to be strong and pretend that it was just another part of her life, but she hated it. When she opened her eyes, she saw past Sydney, who still stood at the stove, and out into the living room where she saw Lila's reflection in the mirror, and behind her, the ever present shadow of death.

"Where is it?" CJ curled up on the couch, pushing memos aside.

"Beverly Hills. It's a bit expensive, but I think it's worth it. There's a small garage, big enough for your mustang, and I don't mind parking the Pontiac out on the street. There's a pool and a full deck, an office off the living room, a master bedroom and two smaller bedrooms, three bathrooms, including the master bath. And the tub is big enough for tall girls like us."

"What are they asking for it?" She was already doing the math in her head, wondering how much they could transfer from securities for a down payment. They could afford it, she knew, but it might be tight.

"Four hundred and fifty."

Maybe they could afford it. "Well, it is Beverly Hills. What does the bank say?"

"With both our credit lines, we can get approved for pretty much whatever we want, it's just a matter of deciding a down payment. I like it Ceej, I think it will be good for us."

"Then make an offer, but don't go above four-twenty." She popped a potato chip into her mouth. "We'll make it work, and if we cash in any of the stocks we have, we can make a sizeable down payment."

"All right. I'll do it." Sydney settled on the bed of the tiny apartment she was renting until the house was ready. "How's the job hunt going?" She made a point to not jump on CJ about her health.

"Trinton-Day has an opening …"

"You're kidding."

"They want someone to head up the Hollywood accounts."

"You're kidding." The spring left Sydney's voice. "Hollywood?"

"It's not that much different than politics, and I could use a break from the world of the beltway. Anyway, this gives me a chance to use my PR skills, not just my polling skills."

"You use your PR skills every day. But Hollywood?"

"We watch movies." CJ chuckled. "Anyway, it's five hundred and fifty thousand a year plus bonus and benefits. Flat salary. And then, I get a commission for every account a junior associate on my team brings into the firm, and a bonus for every account I bring in."

"The money is hard to turn down." Sydney sighed. "And I want you here."

"Yeah, I want to be out there too. I talked to Isobel Trinton, who heads up the company, and we set up an interview for Thursday. It sounds promising."

"She'll see right through your hatred of the accounts. Are you sure you can do something you're not all that happy doing?"

"I need a change of pace. It won't last forever."

"Okay. When's your flight get in?" Sydney wasn't completely sure about this, but she wasn't going to argue either. She wanted CJ here too much to tell her to not pursue the job.

"You're leaving me." Toby was whining and doing it well.

"You learned about this a week ago, you've had all the time in the world to pout. Stop it and help me load up the car, okay?"

Toby surveyed the ancient mustang and shook his head. "You honestly think that Beast here can make the trip?"

"Beauty has made many a cross country trip and she's in perfect condition."

"CJ, I hate to break it to you, but this car is thirty years old."

"You just noticed that, did you?"

"And it makes you look like even more of a dyke."

"What?" CJ flashed him a grin, "My black jeans and leather jacket don't take care of that already?"

"You're hopeless." He tossed the first of many suitcases into the back seat of the convertible. "You'll call every night, let me know you haven't died?"

"Every night. You'll let me know when you and Andi get pregnant?"

"It won't happen in the next week, but of course." Toby turned and hugged her tightly. "Take care of yourself, CJ. And we'll come see you soon."

"As soon as we get the house set up." CJ hugged him just as tightly. "Take care of yourself, Tobus."

"You too." He touched her cheek. "Please." He didn't want to think about the multitudes of things that could happen to her as she trekked across the country. "Don't forget to call."

"You said that already." With a final kiss, she climbed into the mustang, threw the car into drive, and was off, racing the shadows to the West Coast.

**1997 Los Angeles, CA**

"All right, and with that I want to see your summary of McKinley vs. Owen, 1951, State of Idaho, on my desks by 9 AM tomorrow. If you turn it in at 9:05, you will receive a failing grade. Understood? Okay, have a good night." Sydney waved her class off to their next lecture, waiting until the room had emptied before starting to gather her own notes.

"You know," came a soft voice, filled with laughter, "if all law professors are like you, I'm glad that I didn't go to law school."

Sydney jumped about twelve feet in the air and turned to look at the tall, leggy figure walking towards her. "You didn't go to law school, Beautiful, because you have a conscience. Anyway, I've seen you when you lecture and I'm scared of you." Sydney eyed her carefully, a mixture of curiosity and leering at how CJ's body looked poured into that pair of tight jeans and the black mid-riff baring shirt. Something was wrong, or at least up. "What's this surprise visit about anyway?"

"I was hoping to take you to dinner at the pier and talk to you about something."

"What?" Sydney finished packing up her briefcase and before she could sling it over her shoulder, CJ took the bag.

"Well," CJ sighed. "I got fired this morning."

"What? How? What happened? And why am I just finding out about this now?" She linked her fingers with CJ's and squeezed reassuringly. CJ had hated the accounts she'd been working on, and this was a weight off both of their shoulders.

"I insulted Roger Becker, among other things."

Sydney barely stifled a laugh. "Good. The man is insufferable."

"Yeah. Anyway, it took a while to call because when I got home, Toby was there."

"Toby? As in Ziegler? What's he up to? Is he still working for the Bartlet campaign?"

"Yeah …" They walked out into the southern California campus and easily dropped their hands. "Anyway, he offered me a job."

Sydney came to an abrupt halt, shocked, elated, and suddenly terrified. "On the campaign?" This was the break CJ had been waiting for, this was why she'd suffered through the jobs she'd had in-between the campaigns she'd worked on. But a national campaign schedule? "CJ, really?" She tried to keep the apprehension from her voice.

"As press secretary."

"You're kidding …" Sydney launched at CJ and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Baby, that is so perfect …" It was perfect, it was what they'd waited for. Could CJ handle it?

Clinging tightly to her girlfriend of thirteen years, CJ just had to laugh. She could feel the hesitation under Sydney's elation, and knew the reaction would be like this. So she simply hugged her tightly and then pulled back, "It's a serious pay cut … and a lot of it will be going for my expenses on the campaign trail …" They would talk about her health later tonight.

"It's not like we need the money, sweetheart. And whatever the pay is –" She focused on the present, on the job. Staring into the shadows of the future would only make her resent this job offer and then resent CJ.

"Six-hundred a week."

"It's better than nothing." Sydney grinned, an actual, supportive grin, and started walking toward where her car was parked. "I'll keep up the house until you guys win, which you will now that you're on board, and then we can go house hunting in the district. We can actually live in the district this time and not Arlington and I can take a job with the national office and maybe even teach at American."

"Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself?" CJ was smiling though. She could tell that not all of this was posturing – and that Sydney was actually excited with the prospect of moving back to DC.

"No. I have faith in you." Sydney grinned. "Where's Toby?"

"Still at the house. Probably packing for me … I told him that I wanted to talk to you first …"

"Toby knew I'd say yes." She laughed and pulled out her car keys. "I'll meet you at the pier and I'll buy you dinner and then take you home and I might even let Toby watch us tonight – as a present to him for saving you from the hell of Trinton Day." She knew that Toby knew she'd say yes because Toby would take care of CJ. If there was anyone else out there she trusted, it was Toby.

"I was already fired when he offered me the job."

"He called you four days ago, he already had you in mind."

"You are impossible."

"No, not really." Sydney smiled and kissed CJ's cheek. "I'll meet you there. I love you, Baby."

"I love you, too."

Sydney watched CJ walk across the lot to visitor parking and let the smile fade. She wanted to be fine with CJ taking on a campaign schedule, but all she saw was the shadow that followed her. Moving to LA had been the best thing in the world for CJ. The sunshine and the air by the beach and the constant warmth kept her from being sick. Her doctor was a godsend and had found a medication regimen that wasn't eating away at her kidneys as much as the other pills did. She'd hated the work at Trinton-Day but the parties had been fun and the work hadn't kept her up nights or in the office at all hours. For the past year and a half, CJ had been healthy. And CJ was right; this disease couldn't control everything. Never once had CJ allowed her t-cell count to keep her from following her dreams, and it would be wrong to pressure her to start now. So she just watched the mustang roar away, a black shadow following it, and offered up a prayer. "Lila," she whispered, "watch over her like you have been. Stay close to her. Please, don't let this be what kills her. Don't let it take her. Not yet."

To Be Continued … Copyright January 2006 

Author's Note: Guy Nakatani was a gay rights and HIV activist. Born in 1967 in Santa Clara, California, Guy Nakatani gained recognition for his honest educational public appearance in which he openly discussed issues surrounding AIDS and HIV with countless high school students around the Santa Clara Valley. As a person living with AIDS, he brought the students face to face with the effects of AIDS and HIV. During his crusade to deliver the education that he believed he lacked as a child, Nakatani spoke at up to five schools a day, touching the lives of more than 25,000 students. Determined to educate people about AIDS and prevent the suffering that he had endured, Nakatani, changed the lives of many. He passed away February 13, 1994. (Biography taken from the following website: http/ Please check out his life and the beautiful book, Honor Thy Children, written by Molly Fumia. It is a family journey that everyone should read, especially families facing GLBT and AIDS issues.


	4. Virginia

**Light My Candle**

Shauna Kayleen Brock

Pairing: CJ/OFC (Sydney Ludlow)

Disclaimer: CJ Cregg is, unfortunately, not mine. If she were, I wouldn't owe what I owe, and I would also be living in LA, writing for the West Wing. So, no, I don't make any money off of her or any of the other characters that were created by Aaron Sorkin (or later on, John Wells, et al.) Sydney Ludlow, however, is all mine. And so are any other original characters who might crop up.

Author's note: This is what happens when a plot bunny gets into your head and won't let go.

Timeframe: Covers the whole series, but chapter four is set around Roslyn

Chapter 4: Virginia

"I've been thinking a lot about death lately." CJ sighed and leaned back in the comfortable leather chair, feeling the soft cushions mold to her body, the seams pressing into her back. Beneath her fingers, the texture of the leather felt strange, almost liquid, like water flowing over stones.

"That's not as unusual for you as you claim it to be." Paula Rinkhoff watched her favorite patient carefully. She knew she wasn't supposed to have favorites, but CJ was special. "Death is on your mind every day, isn't it? You talk about death every day from the podium, you think about your mother every day..."

"Why do you say things like that? Just to get me back here in a couple weeks time?"

"If you really thought that way, you'd never make another appointment again." Paula made a couple of notes on her pad and then looked back at the other woman. Here, CJ was never the press secretary. Here, she was just CJ, the woman, invincible, tired, and racing from a killer she couldn't see. "What is it about death that makes you bring it up this time?"

CJ shrugged. "Little things. I … a friend of mine, one of the original ones…"

"Original ones?"

"There's this culture in the world of PWA's … anyone who was infected back in the eighties gets to call themselves an original one. Terry found out he was positive a year before I did."

"How did he get it?"

"Boyfriend. His boyfriend died of it, infected him … it was back when no one knew the specifics … he carried a torch for Matt until he died."

"Terry died?"

"Yeah. Last week. I can't make it out to the funeral, and that's hard. He was a great guy."

"And that has you thinking about death?"

"Naturally."

"What else?" Paula looked at her carefully. "CJ? What else is it? It isn't that you're in the tenth year since your diagnosis, is it?"

CJ sighed and leaned forward, feeling her bones protest and the leather again change around her body. "I've been sick for fifteen years. My lease is almost up."

"You don't know that."

"I know that." She could feel her hands starting to tremble and she pressed her fingers together. Silence entered the room for a few minutes and Paula sat, letting the other woman work her emotions out. "Did you know that Virginia Woolf killed herself because she couldn't bear to hurt her husband anymore?"

"Are you thinking about suicide?"

"No … yes … no … not until …"

"Until what, CJ?"

"She killed herself because she knew what her illness was doing to the people she loved. She killed herself because what it was doing to them was killing her."

"Are you saying it was noble?"

"Why not? I mean, people who oppose doctor assisted suicide are always telling you to think of your family, think of the pain … all I know is that when I get sick, Sydney gets this look in her eyes, like she's counting how many times we've said "I love you" to each other in our lives together, just incase it isn't enough. Terry held out until the end. He was on life support and his brain was gone and the cancer had eaten away at every organ in his body, but he held out because he couldn't stand to …" she caught her breath, and caught herself. Leaning back into the chair again, she closed her eyes and pressed shaking fingers against her forehead. "He couldn't stand to hurt his family by ending his life with some dignity. I'm going to die, someday. Sooner rather than later. Why should I put Sydney through that painful end?"

"It's her decision too. She's made the decision to stay with you, to care for you. She's your wife and partner and she knew, ten years ago, when you got that diagnosis, that it was going to be hard. She makes the decision every day to stay with you. It's her decision too."

"It's my life," CJ whispered softly. "There isn't one of us out there who doesn't know the right mixture of medications to take to end it. We're going to die anyway. It isn't cancer. Even when you are in remission, it's still eating at you, destroying every T-Cell in your body. I tell the people who know that I never think about it, that I have a life to live … but I lie awake at night and it's like I can feel my immune system shredding itself."

"Are you still in remission now, CJ?"

CJ didn't really know how to answer that question. Her T-Cell counts had been low at her last checkup, but not drastically so. Her kidneys were fatigued, but that was normal for her. "It's been fifteen years, Paula. My number has to come up sometime."

"You're the one with the mantra that you need to take life one day at a time, CJ. One day. One hour. Why think about that time when your number comes up? Why think about suicide to make it easier on everyone? What do you have for the rest of the night?"

CJ sighed. "I have a briefing at five-thirty, and then a senior staff meeting at six. After that I've got a planning and advance meeting for the trip to Roslyn and a meeting with my boss about the agenda for that meeting. At eight thirty I have a final meeting with my staff to prep for tomorrow and then Sydney and I are having dinner at home together."

"You have your life planned out, to the letter, by the hour. What's the point of planning your death that way?"

"Virginia Woolf thought about killing herself every day." She sighed. "Did you know, that in Mrs. Dalloway, she was initially going to have Clarissa die? She was going to have Clarissa kill herself over something so seemingly trivial to the rest of the world… but that's the thing. See, to everyone else," she chuckled. "To everyone else, I am trivial. Do you get that? I get up there every day and talk about everything that's important. Is it really a big deal that the president is meeting with the Ambassador to Paraguay today? I can't answer that, but someone thinks it is. But every day from that podium, I talk about the important things. I talk about gay rights and women's rights and human rights. I answer questions about Roe vs. Wade and Supreme Court nominations and things that actually do have an impact on people's lives. This week I'm going to be talking about physician assisted suicide. Tell me that doesn't have an impact on everyone's life! I know it has an impact on mine. Nothing I say from that podium is trivial, but I am trivial. I'm not a person to anyone who watches those briefings. I'm the face of the administration, someone to love or to hate. And everything I talk about is so much more important than me, even to me. What I am, what I'm going through, what is going through my body, that's just trivial."

"Trivial? To who? To the world or to you?" Paula tilted her head, knowing better than to expect an answer from CJ.

"Would it matter if I just ceased to exist?"

"Ask Virginia."

This elicited a smile from CJ. "I gotta go. I'll see you in a couple of weeks, Paula. Thank you."

"Call me if you need to talk."

"I know." CJ stood up, transforming herself back into the Press Secretary.

"Heya, CJ."

"Leo!" CJ jumped and then turned and flashed a worried grin at her boss. "It's nine PM, I've put the lid on, I'm putting on my coat. You being here means that you're here to tell me to remove my coat, sit down, and you're going to hand me a report or some other nonsense that I have to know about before my pager goes off tomorrow at six AM."

He cracked up. "I was here to see Josh and thought I'd make sure you were on your way home. But, now that you mention it …"

"No!" She laughed and tossed a file into her satchel. "I am going home. I am ordering a pizza, opening a bottle of wine, putting on my most comfy pajamas and snuggling up on the couch for a night of movies."

"I'm guessing you won't be alone in your snuggling."

CJ grinned. "For once, we have a night together. We're taking advantage of it. You're still coming over for dinner on Sunday, right? Syd's planning fish."

Again, Leo found himself smiling. From the minute he'd met CJ, and then Sydney, he'd felt a closeness to the two of them – and since he and Jenny had split, they had been the two he'd gone to. Sydney was like a daughter to him, and she also cooked, which was a godsend given that otherwise he was stuck with restaurant food. CJ kept him busy with everything from work to basketball scores, and it kept him from going completely crazy. He knew he was supposed to maintain some kind of professional distance from an employee, but CJ was more than that to him, especially since he'd learned of her heath concerns. Never once did he see her bring that shadow she carried to the office, and that inspired him. "What kind of fish?"

"God only knows. She never truly decides until she goes and sees what the markets have fresh. I really think it's a chance for her to just go and walk the pier up in Baltimore."

"Probably." Leo helped her on with her coat. "Go home and get some rest."

"Thanks for the advice about the agenda tonight. I'm meeting with my staff tomorrow about the press schedule, and we need to talk about Mandy. With her focusing more and more of her time on other clients, my workload has doubled."

"We're looking into a new media consultant."

"Or at least an intern to act as liaison between Mandy's office and the White House." CJ shouldered her bag, "I think it's good that we aren't her only client right now, the DNC needs someone with her skills leading the charge, but we just need one more staffer to help out with it. Why not use the free labor we get from interns. And it doesn't look good for us to not be working with her. The memo will come back and that's the last thing we need right now."

"You have a point." He nodded. "I'll look into it this weekend and have Toby talk it over with her."

"Thanks." CJ smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, Leo. Get out of here and get some sleep, okay."

"Definitely." He grinned. His desk was almost clear, and he could stand to think about leaving by ten. It was unheard of for him.

"Lucy, I'm home!" CJ kicked her heels off and watched with a satisfied smirk as they tumbled across the floor. She'd broken the sole of one of them this afternoon and the rest of the day had been like walking on rusty nails. Three hundred dollar heels, but they'd lasted for years. Maybe she'd have a funeral for them – Prada deserved to be respected.

"Hi, Ethel." Sydney came down the steps, dressed in her favorite pair of pj pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Her long, black hair was tied up on top of her head in a haphazard bun, her face freshly scrubbed, and on her feet were her fluffy purple slipper-socks. To CJ she was still the most beautiful woman in the world. "You're actually home by nine-thirty. Something must be about to blow up somewhere."

CJ chuckled and dropped her bag on the bench behind the door. Next to it, Sydney's leather briefcase was also abandoned. "I'm sure it is. So let me go put on something comfortable and you put in a movie."

Descending the rest of the stairs at a hop, Sydney caught CJ in a hug before she could go any further. They didn't get the chance to touch enough, to just revel in what it felt like to be held. Between the two of them, they easily worked at least one-hundred-and-sixty hours a week, and there was such little time for snuggling or touching or just enjoying the feel of each other. "What do you want?"

"A funeral with a full honor guard for my Pradas."

"The sling backs finally kicked the bucket, hmm? Well, I'll dig around, we might have a gold lined shoe box somewhere." Sydney grinned. "And I want to say a few words about how amazing your legs look when you wear them."

CJ leaned forward to nibble at Sydney's neck. She tasted the silver of the chain she was wearing and the metallic feel against her tongue mixed with the salt of her skin and sent a rush through CJ's body. "Hmmm. And what do you want tonight, Counsel?"

"Well, I figured I'd put in a movie we could ignore."

"Anything relating to law or politics is off the table." CJ pulled away and started up the stairs to their bedroom.

"That pretty much eliminates everything we have, sweetie." Sydney laughed. "But I'll find something. And I already ordered the pizza – I got two, one with just cheese and one with a ton of meat. I didn't know how to plan for incase your stomach …"

"I'm okay tonight." CJ kissed her cheek. "The new meds have finally settled down, I think. I'm not getting as sick after I eat, but getting a plain cheese is always a good thing anyway."

"Yeah."

"Open the wine, I'll be right down." CJ wandered up the stairs, pulling off her professional clothes as she went. Being in front of the TV cameras all the time was a pain, and she was realizing that she needed to go shopping again. Lately she'd been wearing the same three or four suits and just rotating the color of shirt.

It wasn't until she collapsed onto the bed that she realized just how sore she really was. Her usual pain regimen, an ibuprofen in the morning and three Tylenol arthritis at lunch, had done nothing to touch the fire in her joints. She wondered, briefly, if it came to the point of breaking into the lortabs again, if the press corps would be able to tell if she was high up there. And did she need to tell Leo that she was going to be using narcotics while on the job?

Leaving her clothes draped over the chair on her side of the room, CJ changed into a pair of old, very comfortable black satin PJ pants and a worn through Ani Difranco baby doll t-shirt. Before heading back down, she rubbed some glucosomine lotion into her fingers and elbows (it was no use hiding the pain from Sydney) and pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. After scrubbing the makeup from her face, she took a long moment to look in the mirror, inspecting for any signs of change. Her nightmare was a K-S lesion in a place she'd never be able to hide it. "Did you hurt this much at the end, Li?" She asked to the shadows behind her. "Cause if it's going to get worse … I don't know if I can handle it." She wiped the last of the cold cream off her nose and sighed, "Maybe Virginia was right … maybe the doctors in Oregon are right … maybe this is necessary. Maybe when it gets to the end …" she shook her head. "Don't listen to me," she said, more to herself than the spirit of her friend. "I'm just feeling sorry for myself tonight."

"Hey." She padded back down, kicking the broken heels out of the hallway (so much for an honor guard). She'd deal with them in the morning.

"You smell like joint cream. You okay?" Sydney frowned and took a closer look at her girlfriend.

"Sore." She sighed and sat, slowly, in the overstuffed cushions of the couch. "Very sore."

"We should call –" Sydney moved over to touch CJ's shoulder gently, gauging the reaction under her fingertips. CJ flinched, visibly, and Sydney's heart started to sink.

"Let's see how it goes over the weekend. I don't want a rush to the doctors and more blood tests just because my joints are predicting a change in the weather or something. Anyway, I've got that appointment tomorrow, and I know they'll draw blood."

"Fair enough." Sydney handed her a glass of wine, "Should you be having this?"

"I'm fine." CJ tugged her down next to her. "What did you decide on?"

"The Object of My Affection."

CJ giggled. "You couldn't have dragged out the lesbian stuff? If I wanted to watch a story of a straight girl swooning over a gay man, I'd watch Donna following Josh around all day."

Laughter pealed through the room, "Well," Sydney got back up and walked over to the videos and DVD rack, "There's Oranges Aren't the Only Fruit …"

"Too long."

"The Incredibly True Story of Two Girls in Love."

"Too high-school."

"Bar Girls."

"Hmmm …." CJ sipped at the merlot.

"It's in the Water."

"Yeah. That one is easy to ignore. And it's funny too."

"You seem to think you're going to be getting something from me tonight."

"Who knows," CJ giggled, "you might just be getting something from me."

"Ohhh, that will be a treat." Sydney popped the movie into the DVD player and wandered back to the couch. "Exactly what would that be?"

The doorbell buzzed. "Dinner." CJ said with a laugh as she stood up. Sydney watched, laughing, as CJ half-danced to the front door to let the guy up, and then hunted around for her wallet and enough cash. It was clear from the face of the kid holding the pizzas that he knew exactly who this was, and he was incredibly star-struck to be in her presence. "Thanks." CJ tipped the kid and then walked back into the living room, holding the two boxes in front of her. "Take them …"

Sydney did and couldn't help but notice the way CJ rubbed her knuckles as she sat back down. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Let's eat."

She woke to the smell of coffee and toasted English muffins. Slipping her robe around her naked body, CJ moved carefully down the stairs of the townhouse and padded across the cold hardwood floors into the tiled kitchen. Sydney was up and half dressed – black dress slacks, a blue camisole, and her long hair up in a clip. She hated hair dryers, and chose instead to let the long tresses dry naturally. A few drops of water had trickled down her back, leaving dark streaks in the cotton of the camisole. The clock above the fridge read six-thirty AM.

"Good morning." CJ took the glass of water and two pills that Sydney handed to her. She downed them in one gulp, making a face at the residual taste left behind by the powder on the pills. "I'm running late, I can't believe that I slept through the 5 o'clock alarm."

"You aren't running that late, and you needed the sleep, honey. You don't have to be up every morning right at five. Anyway, Carol will pull the wires for you so stop worrying. And don't forget your mammogram with Dr. Mitchell this afternoon at three."

"Between you and Carol, I never need to plan my own life." She sank into her usual chair at the table, feeling the familiar dull ache in her hips and knees, and skimmed the headlines on the Post. "Oregon pushes for legalization of Doctor-Sponsored Suicide."

"I saw that." Sydney kept her eyes on the notes she was making. She and CJ never talked about the end, about what was going to happen when her body couldn't even fight off the dust particles in the air. She knew that CJ knew what pills to swallow and still make it look like an accident. But right now, the living will decreed that all measures would be taken to keep CJ alive. Sydney was in charge of the ACLU's push on this case, which made it even more of a national spectacle. She'd been in the meetings and had to advocate for the state of Oregon because she was the ACLU's legislative director. She wondered just how many of the supporters in the meetings she'd been in had ever had to sit across the breakfast table and know that their partner in life would someday be faced with the decision of finding a way to end it before God did.

CJ read the tone in Sydney's voice and dropped the subject. "You coming out to meet us tonight?"

"The gang all going to be there?" Taking a minute to blink away the sudden rise in tears, Sydney turned and smiled. "Yeah, I think it's going to be fun. Nineish?"

"Yeah." CJ opened her robe a crack and looked down, "Hey, do you think I can get a pass on getting my tits flattened today? There has to be some kind of "get out of mammogram free" pass somewhere, right?"

"Nice try." Sydney put the muffin and coffee down in front of CJ. Lightly buttered muffin, black coffee and now she would try to get some grapefruit down her gullet. CJ's appetite had been off the last little while, and swallowing had become increasingly difficult.

CJ sipped at the coffee but with her free hand reached out and snaked her arm around Sydney's waist. With a tug, she pulled her down onto her lap and kissed at the bare shoulder in front of her. Sydney smelled of freesia body wash and lavender shampoo. The scents had changed over the years, all evolving into a smell that was always perfectly "Sydney". If she could bottle this smell, she'd take it with her everywhere. "Thank you for breakfast."

"Hey," Sydney smiled, "you're welcome. Now," regretfully, she pulled away, but not without a kiss. "I have to finish getting ready for class. Call me after your appointment, okay?"

"Will you bring bags of ice over to my office and help my breasts recover?"

Sydney just smiled. "Maybe."

"Yes, Mark?" CJ pointed to the young, redhead reporter who usually hung back by the TV screens.

"The Celtics lost last night, how is the president this morning?"

CJ giggled in spite. "He cancelled his plans for the weekend and has spent the morning burning all of his Celtic memorabilia." She shook her head, "Do you have a real question for me?"

"Senator Rick Santorum of Pennsylvania came out with a statement early this morning, and I'm quoting from notes, "The Bartlet Administration's push to renew the Ryan White Act is as futile as watering the deserts in Utah and Nevada. Nothing good can come of it. Do you have a comment from the White House?"

"When the President heard of the quote from the Senator from Pennsylvania, he asked for the man's head on a platter, seriously. The renewal of the Ryan White Act is one of the single most important steps that we can take in the fight against AIDS and HIV in this country. Every year, more and more young people are becoming infected and the research dollars aren't there to study how the virus has mutated. When the research dollars aren't there, the programs either dry up completely, or are swallowed by private projects and tainted by biased research. The rise in HIV among young heterosexual men and women is frightening, and if we can't enact funding now to educate people about the dangers of sexually transmitted diseases, then we're looking at another pandemic like what happened during the 1980's in this country. We will renew the Ryan White Act and when we do, Senator Santorum can start looking for a new job."

"So you're declaring war?"

"War was already been declared on us, Mark. We're just fighting back. And if you look at other comments from Republicans across the board to Senator Santorum's comment, you will note that he stands alone in his comments. The Republicans and the Democrats may have different ideas about why the Act needs to be renewed and what to do with the money, but overall we agree that the funding has to be reinstated." She looked around the room. "Danny?"

"Does the White House have a comment about the push in Oregon to legalize state-sponsored doctor suicide?"

CJ glared at him. "The White House is committed to it's stance on the overall right to choose that is granted under Roe vs. Wade. That being said, this is specifically a state issue and the White House does not find it appropriate at the moment to get involved with this debate. End of life decisions are agonizing for all family involved."

"What about the rights for doctors in other states who are already practicing—"

"You're asking if we've giving Doctor Kevorkian a get out of jail free card?"

"Yes."

"No." CJ sighed and closed her book. "That's it for now, I'll be back in at three."

Toby met her outside and fell into step with her. "Good work on the Santorum thing." He looked at her. "And the other thing."

"Sydney wants us to denounce it."

"It's personal for her."

"For me too." CJ led him into her office. "I don't know what I'm going to want to do …"

"There will be a cure by that point." Toby hovered in the doorway. "Anyway, good job."

"Thanks." She opened the Tylenol bottle and downed two of the small white pills before taking a seat and kicking her less than comfortable shoes off under her desk. "Is it possible for Santorum to be anymore of an ass? Really? What's next? Saying that gays and lesbians need to be put into ghetto areas so that they don't taint the poor, sweet children who are running and playing?"

Toby shrugged, "We can put you front and center."

"I don't think so." CJ looked up at him. "I'm not a poster-girl, Toby. And God, the minute I say anything, especially now …" she let out a shaky breath. "Sydney's already upset enough over the doctor-assisted stuff and …"

"We decided a long time ago that you weren't a poster child for anything, CJ."

"But you're saying I should be?"

"You've got the power of the podium." Toby shrugged. "Anyway, you got that agenda outline for me to look at?"

She did her best not to think about it. She didn't have the time to think about it. Her daily regimen of pills was as much of a no-brainer as taking her vitamins. She didn't want think about it. But when the pills sent her to the bathroom and had her puking out everything she'd digested in the past twenty-four hours, she couldn't help but think about it.

The florescent light of the bathroom made her already pale skin a sickly green, adding to her look of death. She wanted to say that she didn't hate it, but she did. She hated that her makeup wouldn't cover everything and that her hands trembled and that the very medications that were keeping her alive were also eating her internal organs. Splashing water on her face, she put back on the mask she wore so well, and slipped back out and down the hall – there was another briefing in an hour and she had to be ready for it.

"CJ?" Carol stopped her.

"Yeah?" She turned and gave her ever-present assistant a smile. "What do you need?"

"Actually, He needs you. And Senator Santorum is on a crusade, apparently."

"That's nothing new." CJ rolled her eyes and started to lead Carol down the hall toward the Oval. "Wait here for me, okay?"

"No problem." Carol leaned back against the wall and flashed Mrs. Landingham a smile after the door to the Oval Office closed behind her boss. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Landingham."

"You too, dear." Delores smiled at the younger woman. Of all the assistants, she had a special affinity for Carol Fitzpatrick. There was something elegant about the way the woman carried herself; she carried no ambitions to be anything but diligent and loyal to her place. Whenever she overheard the girls gossiping, it was usually Carol who triumphed as the voice of reason. Margaret seemed to know everything, but it was Carol who could truly handle it. "Would you like a cookie, Carol?"

"Oh, thank you." Carol smiled and snagged one of the homemade mini-chocolate chip cookies from the crystal jar on the older woman's desk. Standing in the foyer to the Oval always made her nervous, as if she was back in high school, waiting for the principal to call her into his office. But CJ had told her to wait, which meant that she'd be working the minute that door opened again. If she'd learned anything over the past year since following CJ from Triton-Day, it was that the world of the Press Office was the most important world to control. Seconds could literally change policy initiatives.

"Hey, Kid." Bartlet looked up and smiled as CJ came into the room. "I saw your comments about Santorum, the ass. You did a good job."

"Thank you, Sir."

"You're the one taking the lead on the agenda for the Roslyn town hall?" Bartlet looked back at his notes. "Impressive." He waved her to the couch.

CJ laughed. "Impressive that Leo took this out of Josh's hands or impressive that he's trusting me with an agenda. When you walk out of there I'll have you against affirmative action and giving all federal dollars to Planned Parenthood."

Bartlet cracked up. "I figured. Good job with pulling this assignment. And looking over this proposed agenda, I can't see anything wrong with it, though we know it will change drastically."

"Well, Sir, that's the problem with letting the people ask you questions."

"I know. That's always our first mistake." He grinned and then handed the agenda back to her. "I've made a few notations beyond what Leo had discussed with you."

CJ glanced down and sighed, not really knowing if it was the time and place to argue with him about sex on college campuses. He had crossed the item off the agenda, but had still made a note that it could easily come back into the discussion and to prepare questions for it. "All right, Sir."

Bartlet could sense her disappointment but just nodded. "Go ahead and get the prep-questions drafted and we'll begin rehearsals when?"

"There will be a couple of prep meetings next week with the staff and we'll do full blown rehearsals the Friday before and the day of the event."

"What times?"

"Whenever I can convince the people who help you run the country to give you to me for ten minutes." She couldn't help but laugh.

"You think I'm ready to face two hundred college kids?"

"Well, Sir, they'll be well vetted. We'll try to just let the Democrats through the door."

Again, Bartlet laughed. He waved CJ away and called for Mrs. Landingham.

Carol stepped forward and took CJ's briefing book. "After the call to the Post," CJ started as they took off down the hall, "call up the Times and tell them I'll give their senior reporter anything he wants, save an exclusive with the President. Then I want you to call Santorum's office and talk to his press secretary about his language on World AIDS day of last year. He comes out publicly for funding and then votes against it consistently. Find out what she's saying to the press, if she'll talk to you. If she won't talk to you, make sure you fax her the papers I had you cull for me yesterday. I also need you to get on with Toby's office about the tentative summit between the Sub-Saharan African countries and the drug companies," they entered her office and CJ tossed the agenda onto her desk. "See what kind of progress, if anything, has been made. And while you're at it, call the drug companies themselves and ask them why I'm paying what I'm paying for my medications."

Carol laughed. "Got it. And I'm calling your doctor now to get the reauthorization of one of your medications. Do you want it …"

"See if he can just fax it directly to the pharmacy. Sydney said she'd pick them up for me on her way over to the bar tonight."

"All right." Carol took a second look at her boss. "I'll also get you some ginger ale and a couple of crackers."

"Thanks."

"Oh please," CJ giggled into her grasshopper. "Josh, Virginia Woolf was a lesbian. She loved Leonard, yes, but she was a lesbian in a time when it wasn't proper for a woman to be a lesbian."

"Is it proper now?" Josh waggled his eyebrows at her.

"What's proper?" Sydney put her hand on CJ's shoulder before slipping into the chair next to her girlfriend.

"Hey," CJ smiled, but then launched back into her diatribe, "Josh is refusing to admit that Virginia Woolf was a lesbian."

"Josh," Sydney fixed her grey eyes on him, "how much Virginia Woolf have you read?"

"Um …"

"Well then," Sydney flagged a waitress and ordered a long island iced tea before continuing. "You have no right to talk about whether or not she was a lesbian. You have to read something of hers first." She smirked and reached up to loosen her hair from the ponytail it had been in all day.

"How was your day?" CJ slipped her hand into Sydney's, carefully keeping their linked fingers below the table.

"Eh." Sydney shrugged. Actually, it had sucked. She'd spent the day arguing points of view on assisted suicide with her students, and then repeated the conversation with her interns, her law clerks, her associates, and the chairman of Senate rules committee. She didn't care if the ACLU was for it, her own views were vastly different from the professional one she was forced to take.

"Yeah?" CJ gave her a gentle smile. "Then we won't talk about work."

"Yeah, why don't we talk about how the senior staff of the white house managed to find themselves at a bar by nine o'clock. Tell me, CJ, this isn't where you usually are when you are telling me that you're running late, is it? Because if it is, then we need to talk." CJ giggled. It was Sydney's favorite sound.

Toby smirked and leaned back in his chair. They had all needed to get out. The town hall meeting in Roslyn was just a few days away and CJ was about ready to kill the President and Sam over the details of the agenda. Between Santorum's comments and the assisted suicide issue, her tolerance was worn pretty thin.

"You have to go back?" Sydney turned puppy-dog eyes to CJ.

"No, I'm done for the night."

"So I can get you drunk, take you home, and take full advantage of you?"

"Please." CJ grinned and had it been any other place than a bar in the heart of Washington DC, she'd have leaned over to kiss Sydney. "I could use someone telling me what do to tonight."

"Anything you say, Doctor Cregg." Sydney grinned and sipped at her drink.

"Hey, Leo."

He smiled and handed over a bottle of sparkling grape juice. "Evening, Sydney. How are you?"

"I'm all right." Sydney stepped back to allow him into the two-story town house.

For as often as he visited, Leo never lost the sense of comfort he felt when he stepped into this home. Over the years, he could tell, CJ and Sydney's tastes had conformed together, making possible the overstuffed leather settee set and the elegant, 1920's era writing desk. The walls were a mixture of classical art, modern abstract, and one entire wall was dedicated to framed pictures of family and friends. Every picture branched out from the center portrait of two very young women holding hands in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. Someone had actually come in and painted a tree, and each picture was a leaf. To Leo, it was the most beautiful work of art he'd ever seen.

Hardwood floors graced every room, save for the Italian tile in the kitchen, a kitchen done in sleek, modern black glass-front and top appliances. Yet, even for the rather cold touch in the kitchen, it all still felt warm. Two nooks, one a breakfast nook filled with overstuffed pillows and a small table and another one, a tiny alcove of pantry shelves, gave the room a strange, geometric feeling. From here he could see into the small room they used as a shared office, and the carpet-lined hardwood stairs that led to the rather spacious upstairs. Here also he could see into the room they'd remodeled so that Sydney could have an office at home. CJ's office was upstairs next to the bedroom.

For the austerity, all the furniture was perfectly padded, and even overstuffed. He loved it; his old bones always preferred something soft to sit on, even if his ego wouldn't let him admit it. He also knew that the reason they went with overstuffed padding wasn't because of a choice of taste but necessity. CJ's bones ached constantly, and the extra padding gave her a bit of relief. "You got new bar stools," he commented as he took a seat.

"Yeah." Sydney did her best to not look uncomfortable. She failed. "CJ couldn't sit on them anymore. Hell, I couldn't either. They were pretty worn down."

"Where is CJ? Margaret told me she called in today, and that …" He laughed, cautiously. "She's the only staffer that actually calls when she won't be in on a Sunday, so when she does …"

"She was in a lot of pain this morning …" Sydney leaned against the counter and looked at the older man. "A _lot_ of pain." CJ had Toby, and Sydney had discovered a friend in Leo. She never felt she could truly open up to Toby, he worried enough as it was about CJ. But Leo had always just been there, since the minute he'd found out about it. He never once compromised CJ's work ethics, but he was also able to be there for Sydney. "She's still in bed right now, actually. I don't know if she'll make it down for dinner."

"How is she, really?" Leo reached over and took her hand.

"She … the doctors keep telling us she's fine. Her blood counts are normal, if a bit lower than they'd like to see. But … she's been in so much pain recently. She keeps telling me it's a change in the weather but it's more than that. Really."

"Is that gut instinct or worry talking?"

"Both, I think. CJ's a fighter. Hell, the only thing that kept her in bed this morning was that movement was literally impossible. She couldn't roll over in bed without screaming. I doped her up on a couple of lortabs and then came down here to make dinner. I have to wake her up in a few minutes to get her meds into her, but it might just be us for dinner." She sighed. "Getting her meds down at lunch almost had me on the phone to her doctor. She was in that much pain."

"Sydney …"

"I'm sorry, Leo." She turned to check on the vegetables. "I shouldn't go on like this."

"You can, you know. If you need to, you know I'll listen." He went to the fridge and pulled out one of the cokes that Sydney kept for him. She didn't touch soda, and CJ's diet standbys were something he wouldn't go near.

"I know. It's just … I always over react when she's in pain."

"It's easy to do." Leo settled on the barstool again. "I …" he sighed. "I've got a friend who is ill. I've known him a long time, and every time he seems just a bit under the weather, my heart just races. He's like a brother to me, and I just thank God every time I get to talk to him."

"Yeah." Sydney looked back from the vegetables. "You know, almost every day, CJ is up at four-thirty. No matter what. She gets up, she has a cup of coffee and half a grapefruit and she reads the morning wires. By five-fifteen she's either in her office on the bike or she's on her way to the gym. Without fail. And she always leaves just enough coffee for me to have my cup and a half and she leaves the other half grapefruit, and a chocolate kiss. But days like today, when she can't even reach over to turn off the alarm clock without sobbing … I just find myself looking back at the days when we were really young and in love, before the car accident, and I just want to know why God did what he did."

"Yeah."

Sydney took a breath and wiped her eyes, brushing away tears that threatened. "Anyway. I should head upstairs and see if CJ can swallow these. If she can't I need to call her doctor."

"I've got my driver."

"Her doctor makes house calls. We pay a bit extra on the co-pay but it helps with her anonymity."

"Good." Leo watched her reach for the towel to dry her hands. She shook while she moved to unlock a drawer in the bar, and he finally moved and put a hand over hers. "Syd, let me." He didn't know where it was coming from, the very thought of seeing CJ in any form but her usual, professional, cheerful self was frightening for him. But he also knew that he had to do it sometime. He was part of the small, inside group that knew, and that meant he'd become someone to help take care of her, and to help take care of Sydney. "You stay here with the fish."

"She's not swallowing well and …" She tried to shake him off.

"No." He made her look at him. "Let me. What ones does she need?"

"She …" Sydney shook her head again, "Leo, it's not anything you need to worry about."

"Yes, it is. Sydney, let me help." She acquiesced, silently, handing him three blue pill bottles.

"One of each," she said, softly, "and there's a bottle of lortab in there. The pills are big, but if she can swallow, get the painkiller in her too. If anything, she'll sleep." She refused to cry in front of Leo. Leo had known them for just a couple of years, but he'd taken them both in as family and he was more her father than her own father was. "She won't want to take them, make her. There's a berry smoothie drink in the fridge, it helps the pills go down easier."

"Okay." He shook the pills out into his hands, not realizing until he tried to cap the bottles just how much he was shaking too. He knew he had no right to be nervous, that CJ really was fine, she was just in pain today, but he'd never done anything like this. Even when Mallory had been younger, it had been Jenny who cared for her when she was sick. "I'll be back down." He left Sydney staring at the vegetables on the stove.

"Thanks." She whispered, when she thought he was out of earshot.

He'd been in their bedroom once before, at a party they had hosted for senior staff and he'd needed to borrow the bathroom. The floors were the same hardwood as in the rest of the townhouse, but a thick blue rug protected the floor from scratches. A few framed prints hung on the walls, including a depiction of Tolkien's Rivendell. Sydney was a nut for the author. The room had an overhead lamp, but he knew it was rarely used, the couple instead opted for small table lamps. This was not a room to work in. They had offices for that. There was no TV, no computer, only a cozy, comfortable sense of togetherness. Thick curtains of maroon, covered with white lace, kept the light out.

"CJ?" He whispered in the direction of the bed. From his place in the doorway, he thought he could see a small lump under the thick blue comforter, but he wasn't sure. "CJ?" He dared again, a bit louder.

"What?" CJ's eyes flew open at the sound of her boss' voice and she bolted upright – and let out an agonizing scream as she did so. "God!" She couldn't control the tears of pain.

"CJ …" Leo hurried into the bedroom, set the pills and drink down on the table, and reached across to try and touch her. Only at the last minute did he realize that might make it worse. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, I'm … I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were here already is all. Is dinner ready?" CJ put on her work face and struggled to sit up completely.

"Almost. It's time for your meds. I offered to bring them up to you."

"Oh." CJ sighed and reached across for the tiny pills. Leo watched her move, and his arthritic bones were sympathetic to her pain. But he let her be brave, for now. "Thanks." She said, after visibly struggling to get the first of the pills down. She swallowed the other two without fanfare and ran a hand over her hair. "I guess it's time for me to join the land of the living."

"Come down when or if you're ready, CJ. Take it easy."

"Just give me a few minutes." She smiled. "I'll be right down." After Leo closed the door behind him, she whimpered, letting the pain come completely through. Everything hurt. Absolutely everything. Even her hair hurt.

"Mr. President!" CJ rubbed her middle finger, easing the pain out of her joint, and shook her head at her boss. "Do I have permission to come over there and hit you over the head with that report?"

Leo stifled a laugh.

"Well, CJ, I think the Secret Service would have a problem with that."

"I could take the secret service!" She sighed. "We can't stand up there and declare that affirmative action is the best course of action for every college campus across the country. In cities where the majority population is ethic and is not getting into school, maybe, but the fact of the matter is, there are schools all across the country where no matter how many kids of an ethnic background that you let in, the majority of the students will be white. You can't change that. So we can't say that it works perfectly for everyone, especially when it isn't a perfect system."

"You're really mad that I was mocking Dayton."

"That too." She paused and then started to laugh. "Yeah, I am."

Bartlet chuckled and hopped off the table as Charlie came in to interrupt them. "Well, I've got another meeting folks. We'll pick this up on Monday. Thank you, CJ."

"Thank you, Mr. President." CJ sighed and looked back at her notes as the rest of the staff filed out.

Leo hung back, watching her. "CJ, go home." He said, softly.

"Leo …"

"Tell me something." He walked over to her and sat down, taking her shaking hand in his. "How high are you right now?"

It took visible effort for her to raise her head and she blinked a couple of times, "To be high, the pain killers have to be doing more than barely touching the pain." With Leo, she could be honest. He'd been there the other night.

"Go home. Get some sleep. Seriously."

"I have work to do."

"The work will wait. It's not worth it if you collapse or something, okay. Frankly, the fact that you've made it through the day at all is a shock to me. Go home. Don't make me order you." He took the notebook from her and closed it. "I'll see you at staff in the morning."

"I haven't called a full lid."

"Let Henry do it. There's no other news coming in and, as always, you'll be paged if there is."

"Leo…"

"Go home, CJ. It's going to be a long, long day tomorrow and you need to be at the top of your game." He would have squeezed her hand, but he could only guess at how much that would hurt her. "Go home."

"Okay, you must have been fired. You're home by nine-fifteen for like the fifth day in a row." Sydney looked up from her case notes and grinned.

"What?" CJ kicked off her heels and even forced a smile to her face. She was home early and wanted nothing more than to pounce on Sydney. The notes slid to the floor as CJ straddled her lap and kissed her thoroughly, ignoring the pain that coursed through every part of her body. "You were expecting your other girlfriend?"

"Yeah. I mean, I always bank on you not being home until eleven."

"Well, we'll just have to get her to join us then." CJ nibbled at Sydney's neck.

"Hmmm … I dunno, you're all the woman I can handle." She unbuttoned CJ's blouse and stroked the bare skin of her stomach. "Are you still in pain, Honey?" She knew the answer to the question, but wanted to give her girlfriend the option to lie to her.

CJ sighed and slid her fingers through Sydney's hair. "If we give up everything now just because I'm hurting, then I might as well resign my position and go to bed until this thing takes me. For some reason, I'm in pain right now. Next week I'll feel better. Okay? Please?" She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and started on the button of Sydney's jeans.

"Fair enough." Sydney pushed back her worries and tugged the lacy material of CJ's bra aside. "And do those reporters who are lusting after you know what kind of lingerie you wear?" She bit her lip as CJ tugged the t-shirt she was wearing over her head.

"Yes. In the private meetings back in my office, I walk around only in my underwear." CJ rolled her eyes as she slid down off Sydney's lap and nudged her legs apart, giving herself the leverage she needed to pull the jeans off her body completely, taking the boxer shorts with them.

Sydney moaned and slid her hands into CJ's hair as CJ's hands moved to maneuver the material of her clothes out of the way. She was worried, she didn't want CJ to push herself, but moments like this, as CJ's mouth kissed its way up her leg, Sydney forgot to care. When they made love it was perfect and explosive and … "Hold on …" she moaned, ten years of practice kicking in. Blindly, she reached into the end table drawer and pulled out one of the dental dams. She missed the days when they'd been reckless and safe sex hadn't been a priority.

"I think you should drive up and come tonight." CJ stood at the foot of the bed, in her underwear and pantyhose, trying to decide between the comfortable gray pants suit and the slightly less comfortable but very sexy off-white skirt suit.

"I would but I have no idea how long I'm going to be in the office tonight. This case is really kicking my butt." Sydney came up and wrapped her arms around CJ's waist, resting her chin on her girlfriend's bony shoulder. "Go with the pants. You're going to be running around like crazy today and the pants are going to be easier to deal with. Anyway, those pants make your legs look even longer than they already are and you know how hot that makes me."

"You have a point."

"I usually do." Sydney broke away from CJ and turned back to the mirror to fix her makeup and hair. "You know, I think it's time to cut this off."

"You say that every day, and after seventeen years you think I'd have stopped listening to it."

"I also tell you that I love you every day."

"It's why I still listen to you." CJ grinned and turned around as she shrugged into the blue blouse she usually wore with this suit. "But, Syd, remember the short hair disaster of nineteen-ninety-three? I loved it, but you bitched until it grew out. You're meant to have long hair. It's just the way it is. Anyway, I love the way it falls around your shoulders. It's like an obsidian waterfall. My hair has never been like that." CJ took a sip of her coffee before pulling up the loose pants and fastening them.

"First off, your hair isn't black. Secondly, since when do you talk like Toby?" The women exchanged places, CJ sat at the vanity to fix her makeup and do something with her ever-changing hair while Sydney decided on a black pantsuit and red blouse.

"Since I'm working on about three speeches that he's made notes on." CJ grinned back in the reflection of the mirror. "Going hunting today?"

"Yeah. My testimony is in front of the judiciary committee today." She stepped into a pair of open toed heels.

"That's right." CJ chose a shade of lipstick and talked to her girlfriend's reflection as she applied it. "And stop whining. You work for the ACLU because you believe in the power of the first amendment, and you believe in the power of the state and the Federal government to balance power. You believe in the power of a person's right to choose, not just a woman's." She left the rest of the sentence hanging for a long minute while she applied her usual eye shadow. "You believe that the decision in the end is up to the family, and that's the key point to your argument today."

Sydney fastened a thin golden chain around her neck and walked slowly over, putting her hands on CJ's shoulders. She bent to kiss CJ's ear, trying to hide the tears that suddenly sprang up. "Lover, how on earth do you know the questions in my head before I even say them? How do you know what I'm really feeling about this issue?"

"First off, I know you. Secondly," she tried to joke before Sydney started to cry, "I talk to reporters all day long. You learn to read people's minds pretty quickly." CJ laughed.

Sydney laughed and stepped back to select a new series of hoops for the six earrings she had in each ear.

CJ stopped talking long enough to apply her lipstick. "Hey, you think that maybe this weekend we could sneak up to Virginia, find a tiny bed and breakfast, and have sex for two straight days?"

"First off, you know the rule about saying the word "straight" in this house. Second, I'll make the reservations today during a recess. You think you can really sneak away?"

"I do have a deputy for a reason and we need to get out of DC and away from our jobs and the constant conflicts of interest for a couple of days."

"Yeah, we do." Sydney back walked over and put her hands on CJ's shoulders. "Call me when you get done tonight, okay?"

"I will. And I'll really try to not be home too late. The gaggle keeps me, you know that, but I'll rush out of there as fast as I can."

"Good." She kissed the top of CJ's head. "Have a good day, finish your breakfast, and don't forget your meds tonight. You tend to forget them when there's a late night event."

"I'll remember." CJ rolled her eyes, but secretly thanked her for the reminder. As it was, she knew she'd still forget. "Your briefcase is in the kitchen!" She called down when she heard Sydney stop suddenly by the front door.

With a laugh, Sydney went to retrieve it, remembering now that she'd been reviewing things while making dinner last night.

Sydney knew that she was hopeless. Completely hopeless. She had decided, a long time ago, that it was inevitable that the TV in her office would always be tuned to C-SPAN so that she could catch a glimpse of CJ telling the press corps to go fuck themselves. Even when C-SPAN had better things to run than CJ's briefings, briefings which could be boring at times, she kept the channel there, muted, hoping that her angel would appear on screen.

"Good morning."

The voice caught her off guard and Sydney hadn't realized that the TV was even un-muted. Last she had looked up, the Senate had been in a quorum call. But now, three paragraphs further into one of her clerks reviews, a musical voice was striving to catch her attention.

She was comfortable up there today – Sydney could tell by the way CJ was balancing her weight and by the look in CJ's eye when she called on Danny. But at the same time, she knew something was up. Whenever CJ was acting, she dropped her shoulder just a bit. And whenever she talked diplomatic strength and flat out avoided military action, it was too easy to see through her. For a minute she wondered why the press corps never saw that, but they hadn't been with CJ for almost half their lives.

Knowing that CJ was avoiding questions about military action for the pilot in Iraq only made Sydney sigh. It was days like today, even if they ended up being good ones, that turned into nights where CJ would stumble through the door sometime after midnight and barely make it to their bed before collapsing. It was those nights that CJ would sleep for fifteen minutes before waking up enough to tug off her hose and skirt and walk around in just her camisole and her silk blouse hanging open. She'd remove her makeup and rant about whichever of the men pissed her off and she would pull her hair up in a messy pony tail and get into bed dressed only in an old t-shirt of Sydney's and her panties and they'd snuggle. Nights like the one that Sydney knew was coming always meant so much more than the nights of wild love making. Nights like this, they'd hold each other and Sydney would talk about her day until CJ fell asleep. Never, in the years that they'd been together, had Sydney found offence that CJ always fell asleep while she was talking. In fact, she took pride in the comfort that CJ apparently found in her voice. And if it meant that CJ was getting any kind of sleep, she'd take it.

"CJ, Sydney Ludlow, Director of Legislative Affairs for the ACLU, also the director of the Washington DC ACLU office is testifying this afternoon before the senate judiciary committee about the constitutionality of doctor assisted suicide. Does the White House have a comment about her testimony?"

"Well, Steve, I haven't seen Sydney's," she caught herself, "Ms. Ludlow's statement, but it's a well documented fact that she and the ACLU are long time friends of the Bartlet administration."

Sydney cracked up. In moments like that, it was worth the stress they endured for CJ to do her job and do it well. Sometimes she honestly thought that her girlfriend should be a stand-up comic.

"But the ACLU –"

"From what I know of Ms. Ludlow's testimony, the ACLU is taking the stand that, as with issues of abortion, the right to life needs to be in the hands of the family, not the government."

"Does the White House have a comment?" Steve asked again.

"What, that wasn't good enough for you?" The press corps laughed again. "Seriously, folks. The administration's long-standing support of the right's of patients is something that is well documented. That being said, we also are open to the debate on this subject and will accept whatever ruling the Supreme Court hands down. As nice as it would be to be the final voice on this subject, it is the court and not the Executive that gets that right. It's controversial, we know, but we try to not run from controversy. That's all for now, I'll be back to check in with you before we load up to Roslyn, and if there is any word on the pilot in Iraq. Thank you."

Sydney all but reached out to touch the TV as CJ exited the podium. Part of her was still amazed that even after seventeen years, the unconditional love was still there, and under it, lust. But even more important than the sex, was the love, and the knowledge that for Sydney, she'd found the right one back in that gay and lesbian community center in Berkeley.

CJ wondered if beating Josh and Mandy's heads together would make them both die. No, knowing her luck it would only cause to join them together and suddenly they'd not only be annoying but also inseparable. They hadn't been this bad when they'd been sleeping together. Sighing with relief, she slipped out of the rehearsal and back to her office. How did it get to be two o'clock? Closing and locking the door behind her, she unlocked her desk drawer and took out one of the pill bottles she kept at work.

It was a small vial; just large enough to hold the pills she'd need for the week. Unmarked, on the off chance that she forgot to lock the drawer and someone went snooping. She remembered which pills were which by the color of the vial. Just like with her vitamins in the morning, she downed the pills with a full bottle of water and a couple of crackers. The vial went back into the drawer, the drawer was once again locked, and she turned her attention to the press releases, the distressed shuttle, and coming up with a peace offering to give to Danny.

"CJ?" Carol buzzed in. "Sydney's on the line."

She grinned. "Thanks." She muted CNN and reached for the phone, "Hey."

"Maggie's B and B. We've got one of the larger suites for the weekend. It's romantic, it's in the woods, it's gay friendly, so we're all set."

"Do you know how much I am loving you right now?"

"Enough to find some kind of emergency so that I have to leave the committee?"

"No." She laughed. "Not that much. And come on, you're arguing a case to the US Senate. Aren't you having fun?"

"No." Sydney sighed. "They're calling us back. I love you, baby, and I'll talk to you tonight."

"Love you too, Sweetie."

It was good to hear everyone laughing. Sam was yacking in her ear about something and she needed to catch up to Toby and make sure he was okay, and where was Josh? But she knew better, his fan club was probably keeping him busy.

"What was that?" CJ asked, still chuckling as she turned her attention back to Sam. His response was cut short by Gina's scream of "gun!", the subsequent gunfire, and Sam throwing her to the ground. She felt, more than heard, the cop car window explode over her head and the last thing she thought of as her head hit the ground was that she needed to call Sydney.

Never in her life had she been more scared than she had in this moment. Not when they'd been waiting for the results from CJ's blood tests, not when she'd fallen when they were hiking in the Rockies and she'd broken her leg, never in her life had she felt this scared and helpless. And there was nothing she could do.

_Shots fired … shots fired … _it kept ringing in her ears as she sped toward the hospital. She couldn't get anyone on the phone and one reporter said they'd seen CJ go down near a bullet riddled police car. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't. Their entire life together couldn't be snuffed out in this moment, could it?

Apparently it didn't matter that she was on the family list with the service, they weren't letting her in the door. Her tears seemed to only annoy the already tired agent and she backed up, doing everything but screaming at the windows in the hope that maybe, just maybe CJ could hear her. _Please, please God, let her be okay. Please. I'll do anything, just let her be okay. Don't take her from me. Not now. Just let her be okay. _She tried the cell phone again, and CJ's pager and still nothing. So she was relegated to behind the barrier, hoping and praying that someone would finally relent and let her in the door. Or that maybe CJ would make an appearance and talk to the press. Or maybe try to call her. Or something. But the longer she waited, the more scared she became. Why wasn't her phone ringing with the doctors contacting her? They needed to know that CJ was deathly allergic to penicillin and to most of the basic anesthesia. They needed to know that she'd been on cold medication recently and that she was HIV positive … oh God, what if they weren't calling her for a reason, what if … her cell phone rang.

"Oh, God, CJ. Where are you? God … are you okay, where the hell are you?"

CJ collapsed back against the hospital wall, watching the hustle of the ER bay. "Come around to the back of the ER admitting bay, I'm here. And I'm okay, Angel. Really."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Sydney took off at a run, not daring to hope that things really were fine until she saw for herself that CJ was, really okay. She didn't sound okay. She was shaky and something was off in her voice – she was dazed. CJ hung up as Sydney tore around the corner and past the bulky secret service agent. She really didn't care who tried to stop her at this point. "Oh, God," Sydney whispered, taking in her girlfriend's slightly unfocused expression and the red scratch on her neck. "You're okay?"

"Just a concussion, that's all," CJ reached for her and took her hands. "Really. And it's a mild one. I think more damage was done to my neck than my head."

"You should be sitting still, resting. God, when do you … who else …" She stopped talking for a second and just wrapped CJ in her arms. "I love you."

"I love you." CJ held on, tightly. This, this right here was her sanity.

"How is everyone else?" Sydney still hadn't let go.

"The President's going to be fine … he was hit but it's minor. It's Josh …" CJ choked. "God, Sydney …"

"Shhh, sweetie," she could feel the tears starting and then stopping in CJ's chest. "He'll be fine."

She collapsed into the chair in her office, feeling every bone in her body creak and pop with the sudden chance to actually relax. She was tired, bitchy, and her head hurt. The lortab she'd taken earlier to stem the encroaching pain in her joints had only made her cranky and queasy and now she had to take her meds and it was enough to wish, for a brief moment, that Sam hadn't been as fast as he'd been. After downing the little white pills with a full bottle of water, she stopped for a moment and pulled the charm necklace out of her pocket.

Usually she opted for a small charm on her watchband – a silver heart that to the untrained eye looked to be just an accessory. But to any medic who looked at her, they would know to look at the charm, and when they flipped it over, they would see the medi-alert symbol, her name, and her health status: HIV Positive/Penicillin Allergic. But she'd switched watches … had it been yesterday morning, she couldn't remember anymore, and instead donned a necklace Sydney had given her on the anniversary of her diagnosis. Yes, they both admitted to the morbidity of celebrating the anniversary of the day they'd found out she was positive, but it helped them to laugh in the face of death. The necklace was elegant, a gold pendant on a simple golden chain, and on the back of the pendant, all her pertinent information. She'd learned one thing through this whole ordeal, that when she got the chain replaced, she was having it made just a little longer, long enough to slip over her head, and there would be no clasp. They couldn't risk a hospital not knowing.

She downed an aspirin, not really caring what all the medication would do to the lining of her stomach, and went to collapse on the couch for a while. No one had been allowed to go home yet, and everyone was taking watch at the hospital. But she had a few minutes, and the calls Carol had handed her could wait, and right now she needed to just close her eyes and see if she could get her head to stop throbbing.

"It's good you came in." Roger sighed quietly and looked at one of his favorite patients. "A stressful event like the shooting can actually alter a body's immune system and make it more vulnerable."

"What are you telling me?" CJ toyed with the band-aid in the crook of her elbow.

"Well... How's your head?" Roger sighed.

"Headaches for a couple of days after the shooting, but I'm better now."

"And the joint pain?"

CJ sighed. "Excruciating. Mostly in my knuckles and ankles."

"What's your pain regimen currently?"

"Mostly Tylenol. I break into the Lortab when I can't handle it."

"Since that incident what, about three weeks ago, how has the pain been?"

"I'm not confined to bed, which I take as a good sign."

Roger almost laughed. But he didn't like what the signs were starting to point to. "I want you to switch back to the Ibuprofen. Work it into your regimen and see how the pain handles itself. I think also once you bring your blood pressure down, the pain will go back to its usual levels." Roger sighed and looked at the blood test results in front of him. "CJ, I'm worried about your kidneys. I want to talk about taking you off the cocktail completely for a while. Right now, I'm worried that the side effects are more detrimental than the virus."

CJ's heart soared. No medication. None except the pain killers- and maybe something for her blood pressure. No setting her pager to go off, no keeping a pill vial in her jacket pocket incase she wasn't in her office right at six PM. No being sick all day long. She could eat what she wanted and drink what she wanted and enjoy life again. "Really?" She tried to not sound too hopeful.

"Yes, really. Even though your viral count is slightly accelerated, I don't like what I'm seeing in your kidneys." He saw the hopeful look in her eyes and tried to squelch it. "This isn't a break for you, CJ. Seriously." He scribbled something onto a green piece of paper, "You're going to taper your medications off for the next week. Here's the new schedule and then by next Sunday I want you off of everything. Come back in three weeks and we'll do another round of tests. If you show any signs –"

"Roger, I've done this before. If I start to show signs of illness of any kind, I page you directly and we go back to the medications." CJ felt fifty pounds lighter.

"Yes. And CJ, this is for your kidneys. I want you to monitor yourself closely so that we don't have to start doing regular urine testing. But if you notice anything – unusual smells, white cloudiness, and above all else, blood, you get in touch with me immediately."

"I will."

Roger handed over the checkout paperwork and smiled. "Okay, good luck and I'll see you back here in three weeks."

"Thank you." CJ all but skipped out of the office.

"He WHAT!" Sydney spun around, her gray eyes clouded over and as dark as thunderheads. "He just took you off everything?"

"I'm tapering down. Sydney, we've done this before."

"Yeah, and it landed you in bed with fever blisters! CJ …"

"Sydney, my kidneys are in trouble." The words spilled out before she could stop them, words she hadn't said at all until this point. Three months ago Roger had noticed the fatigue, but just decided to monitor it. Now that this step had been taken, CJ knew it was something serious.

"What?" Sydney felt a cold hand grab her gut. "How …"

"It wasn't anything to worry about last time I got checked, so I didn't say anything. But this time … he's worried …"

"God, Baby," Sydney wanted to be mad, but just crossed the kitchen to be closer to CJ, "are you in pain or anything?"

"Not from that. Really, honey, it's just preventative."

"CJ, the last time you went off the meds, you got sick. I … does this mean your body has stopped responding, that the virus is mutating?"

"We haven't got that far yet, but Roger said he would be in touch after he reviewed the case further. Right now, it's just best to do what I'm doing."

Sydney snaked her arms around CJ and held her tightly. This, this right here was her nightmare. She could handle CJ being sick, but it was the possibility of her getting sick that terrified her. Medication was her only weapon, and it had just been taken away from her. "Let's eat, okay?" She couldn't talk about this anymore.

"And I don't see why the reauthorization is so important." Josh's voice sounded tinny across the speakerphone. "Seriously, Leo, if we want to gain any ground, we can't go to this congress, a congress that is too busy out campaigning to do any real work, and say that we want Ryan White re-authorized. We wait until after the midterms when we can actually fight for it."

CJ leaned back into the couch and closed her eyes. She hurt. Resorting to a Lortab before coming in here had only made her feel queasy, and Josh was now giving her a headache. He had a point, but she hated to concede it. But, they had a chance now to reauthorize this bill, if they waited much longer, they couldn't be sure congress would pass anything.

"I say we wait until we introduce the health care legislation package we've been putting together."

"It's a bill aimed at kids, Josh," CJ said, "how do you suppose we fit AIDS funding into it?"

"We broaden the scope to include teenagers. It's a start."

Leo nodded, "All right, we drop Ryan White for now. What about the Violence Against Women Act?"

"It's a year before it's up for reauthorization, do we want to introduce it now?" Toby looked around the room. "Why not make some noise with it?"

"Because," CJ stood up and moved to lean against the doorway, "if we make noise, the members of congress who want to see it eliminated will make as much noise." She could make the same arguments as Josh. He was right, they might fare better next year, with a different congress, but she'd stood at the podium and voiced their strong support. Now they were putting it in a drawer for another year. All the while, the debate would fade and people would again stop caring.

"And they'll look bad doing it. I think it goes on the table."

CJ nodded, he did have a point about that. She wasn't exactly at her best today and so she leaned back, deciding to listen, and dream of the bubble bath that Sydney had promised her tonight. This meeting was proving to be a waste of time, and she had seventeen press releases to still approve before they hit the wires in an hour.

He stood in the back of the briefing room and watched. He didn't do it often, he didn't have time and honestly, the briefings were his least favorite part of the day. He didn't envy CJ her job, and he felt at times that it was trite – especially for someone like her. CJ held a multiple post-graduate degrees in political science and media; her doctorate thesis on the polling inconsistencies in urban regions was legend, and yet she stood up at the podium of the White House every day and gave a listing of the president's schedule. It was really beneath her. But ever since Roslyn, he'd found more and more reason to be back here.

It had been a flash, a split second realization that if he didn't pull her down, she'd be dead. Over the noise of the gunfire and the exploding car, he'd heard her head smack against the pavement and as he clawed his way up her body to make sure he hadn't just killed her himself, her necklace had come loose in his hands. Without even bothering to look, he'd pocketed it and then kept on going. It wasn't until six hours later, at the hospital, that he'd realized he still had it and when Sam had taken a look at the pendant, his heart had broken.

He wanted to respect her reasons for not telling anyone, and truth be told, if he didn't know for sure, then he'd never suspect. CJ had been sick twice the whole time he'd known her – once shortly after the campaign started and then last Thanksgiving when she'd been out for close to a week and a half – when that flu bug had landed her in the hospital. Now he worried. Now he looked at her differently, and wondered if she hurt or if her organs were healthy or if he shouldn't be near her when he wasn't feeling great. He worried about the germs in the White House and if traveling was really healthy for her. For all his experience, he'd never known anyone with the virus and he'd never sought out the chance to get to meet people like CJ. Truth be told, he was honestly scared. A part of him had never realized that people with HIV could be as normal as anyone else.

Deep down, he knew that CJ knew he knew. But she hadn't said anything and he wasn't likely to bring it up. It wasn't any of his business and if she wanted to tell him, she'd tell him. It was her job to protect all of them, and she knew how to protect herself. The more people knew, the more likely they were to turn their backs on her and make it a scandal that could ruin her forever. So, instead, he just worried silently, and watched her for any signs of illness. And he tried to not cry whenever she laughed.

"Hi," Sydney looked around at the group. Some faces she knew, others were new, but she trusted all of them to keep their secret, secret. A place like this was just like any other support meeting. "My name is Sydney and my partner has HIV. She's had it for fifteen years now … we actually celebrated the tenth anniversary of her diagnosis this year." The scattered chuckles from around the circle let her know that she wasn't alone in the morbidity. "It's been a rough few weeks for her, for us. We ... we lost a friend to AIDS and couldn't go to his funeral, her job keeps us pretty much grounded. And then she was at Roslyn and then last week her doctor took her off all her HIV medications. All of them. Her kidneys are in danger right now." Sydney took a deep breath. "So … she keeps beating death. But I guess it's what all of our partners do." She looked around the circle again and smiled at a couple of her friends.

"My girlfriend loves Virginia Woolf, we both do really – all those morose writers from the nineteen-twenties. But she really has a passion for Virginia's work and life. It's the one hobby she can find time for, I guess. And she's always … she's always been fascinated with Virginia's suicide and the idea that it isn't a selfish act, but one of compassion – especially when you're sick. She says that it's brave to walk into the unknown, to dare to try to live a life without pain."

"What do you say to that?" The moderator asked quietly. Few people in the room actually knew who Sydney's girlfriend was – she was always careful to not reveal names.

"I don't know." Sydney bit her lip, trying to hold in the tears. "I mean … I want to argue with her and tell her that it's God's choice, not any one else's when we go … but what about … we've all sat there, at one time or another, thinking that this was it, this was what was going to be the end … and I hate myself for it, but there is this tiny part of me that almost wishes she'd been hit in Roslyn. She wouldn't be in pain anymore; she'd be free of this shadow. And it's a tiny part and I don't like it, but for ten years I've watched her try to hide it. I've lived and died with the test results and every sneeze and cough. I over-clean the house and I have hand sanitizer in every room and I know exactly how long it's been since we had sex that wasn't protected. And this part of me that I hate is the same part of me that can't argue with her when she brings up her living will and tells me that we shouldn't let them go to extraordinary measures to save her life. Of course we have to go to these measures! We have to!"

"Why?"

"Because when she was diagnosed I promised her that we'd pick out each other's nursing homes." The tears spilled over. "She came so close to death at Roslyn, over something so trivial, and when I came home the other night she was actually home before I was and she was thumbing through Mrs. Dalloway … and she looked up at me and told me that she was going to leave her living will right as it was. She told me that when she got bad, maybe we'd talk about letting her go when she was ready, but that suicide was too trivial to think about. We've lived our lives waiting for this to kill her when we really should be just living. She's always one step ahead of the virus, you know, doing what she wants to do, but she's thumbing her nose at the world. Now she's just living. It … we came closer to tasting death than we ever have before, and it wasn't even over the virus. It was her and a bullet." She wiped the tears away. "Her and a bullet."

"What did you tell her in response to that?"

Sydney broke down, pressing her always well-manicured fingers over her eyes. For a long moment she couldn't answer, and eventually she felt gentle arms slide across her shoulders. "What was I supposed to say? She could go tomorrow or I could spend forever at her bedside watching her waste away. I don't even know what I want, because what I wish for, isn't ever going to happen."

"What do you wish for, Sydney?"

"For the nightmare to end. I want those test results to be negative. I know," she tried to take a breath, "that we're just supposed to accept it and move on and know that wishing doesn't make it so. But I want just one test result to come back negative. I want there to be a cure." With a final breath, she looked around the room. Some people were nodding, some were crying, others looked ready to argue with her. "I want to worry about the trivial."


	5. Sacrament

**Light My Candle**

Shauna Kayleen Brock

**Pairing**: CJ/OFC (Sydney Ludlow)

**Disclaimer:** CJ Cregg is, unfortunately, not mine. If she were, I wouldn't owe what I owe, and I would also be living in LA, writing for the West Wing. So, no, I don't make any money off of her or any of the other characters that were created by Aaron Sorkin (or later on, John Wells, et al.) Sydney Ludlow, however, is all mine. And so are any other original characters who might crop up.

**Timeframe:** Covers the whole series, but chapter five is set in season 2, between "The Midterms" and "The Stackhouse Filibuster". True to my writing style, there are also flashbacks.

Chapter 5: Sacrament 

She stared at the file on her desk, tears floating in front of her eyes. She hated that she was upset over this, but she had every right to be. As of this very moment, her own government had declared that her way of life wasn't worth living. She was an outcast, not worthy of the same rights as the men and women who wanted to share their lives together. She knew the arguments on the Republican side of this, and the arguments of the Democrats, but those people were all people who had votes in places where only social conservatives managed to get elected. Those places didn't want the Queers getting married.

"Hey."

She jumped about five feet before looking up and into the similarly depressed eyes of her girlfriend. "Hey. This is a pleasant surprise." Sydney stood and went over, tugging CJ into the office. They hugged for a long moment. "I figured you'd just go to the office and then go home."

"I couldn't be in the office …" CJ sighed and nuzzled at Sydney's neck. "I wanted to be. I wanted to stomach the fact that I get to tow the party line right now, but I couldn't. I just wanted to see you and go home."

"Thanks." Sydney kissed her cheek and then waved for CJ to sit on the couch. "You know the ACLU is going to fight this decision, right?"

"Technically …"

"A pocket veto is as good as signing the thing, CJ."

"Don't lecture to me about the ins and outs of politics, sweetie." Her tone was harsher than she wanted it to be. "I'm sorry. I'm just … tired and disappointed."

"I know." Sydney closed down her laptop – how had it managed to get so late? – and went to sit next to CJ. "It's at times like this that I wish I'd taken that job with the Gay and Lesbian Task Force. At least then …"

"You like what you do too much."

"Yeah. And usually I get to stand on the side of the good guys. CJ, what …"

"There's too many other important issues." She shook her head. "President Bartlet's a good man, but he's scared to death of daring to push an agenda that would help the homosexual population. I keep thinking maybe … after re-election … when he doesn't have to keep winning …"

"Keep dreaming." They kissed gently. Sydney pulled back and took CJ's hand in her own, tracing the simple, silver and gold band that matched her own. The rings were so delicate they were easy to miss at first glance, but neither woman had taken them off since that day fourteen years ago when they'd promised to love each other forever. "I just don't get it," Sydney whispered. "What do we do for each other that the hets don't? What do they do that we don't? I said the same things … I do the same things … God, how many times have you risked your frigging life to just … just to take care of me when I've got the flu or something and … and these rings we wear mean nothing to our own government."

"Hey," CJ stopped her mid-diatribe. "These rings mean something to us. And that means something."

"You don't wish …"

"Of course I do." CJ sighed, the words she wanted to stay stopping at the edge because she didn't want to say them here. "Come on. It's been a long couple of days and I just want to go home."

"Okay." Sydney stood up and, after looking at CJ again, just grabbed her purse. It was a night to leave work at work – the arguments would be here tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to hold her girlfriend, and to hear the rest of what she had to say.

"When are you going to Idaho again?" CJ wandered absently around the room, unpacking her overnight bag while getting into her pj's at the same time.

"Next Tuesday."

CJ smirked, "You're missing family home evening?"

Sydney rolled her eyes, "There is nothing like being dragged out to the middle of nowhere to give out fake smiles at my younger sister's wedding and then spend the downtime being told that I'm going straight to hell. And, by the way, Mindy is pregnant. Hence the moving up of the wedding. Yes, she and her good old returned missionary boyfriend didn't wait three days before jumping into bed together. Of course, somehow, it's my fault." Sydney emerged from the bathroom, dressed only in a pair of cotton boxers. Carefully, she pulled her long hair from it's towel and squished the rest of the water from the tresses while she watched CJ move carefully around the room, trying to hide the pain in her joints. Her rambling was just to cover CJ's silence, she knew enough to not force CJ's hand, even when it was obvious that something wasn't quite right, and this something wasn't about her health. CJ had been quiet since they'd left the office; it was obvious that whatever she had wanted to say then still wasn't ready to be put into words. But, Sydney knew better than to push.

"I'll refrain from my usual lecture about how you really don't need your family's approval and every time you go back there for something like this, it only reinforces their hatred of me and shows that you support it somehow. I don't want to have that fight tonight."

"Thank you." Sydney sighed. CJ was right, and she knew it, but it didn't change things.

"You look beautiful when you are fresh out of the shower."

"Yeah?" Sydney dropped the towel behind her and walked over to the bed. She slipped behind CJ and wrapped her arms around her, pressing their bodies together. "You okay?"

When CJ took a long breath to prepare just for saying 'Yeah', Sydney just squeezed her closer. "You want to talk about it? You've been quiet."

"I just …" She leaned back into Sydney's arms.

"What, baby?"

"I'm just depressed right now. It will pass. But this … I mean … what you said in your office tonight … the hets do get to do something that we don't." She took a shaky breath, trying to hold in the tears that constantly threatened whenever she thought about the future. "If things keep going as they're going … God, you won't get to be there if I'm in the hospital. I can't … I can't do this without you there."

"I'll be there. Decades and decades from now, I'll be there." Sydney didn't bother to hide the tears, especially when she saw the single drop of water slip down CJ's cheek. "You'll die here, at home, in the comforting arms of your family. If you think I would put you in a hospital for the end …" tears choked her throat. "God, CJ …" A vision of the future flashed before her – dialysis, chemotherapy, needles, and in the end, a skeletal version of this beautiful and vibrant woman. She flashed back to those days in the hospital, that first time when she'd been denied access, and all the times since, when CJ had been battling the demons of intensive care by herself. What was going to happen at the end? Taking a deep breath, Sydney kissed her neck. "Go get naked and then I'll rub you down." When that prompted a smile from CJ, Sydney leaned back to watch her girlfriend undress.

While keeping eye contact, Sydney absently ran her fingers over her mostly bare body as she watched the clothes fall from CJ's. By the time CJ was naked, Sydney was ready for much more than a simple back rub. When CJ approached the bed again, Sydney rose to her knees and pulled her close. She leaned in to kiss CJ's soft skin and nuzzle the faded tattoo that was nestled on the underside of her left breast. Once, long ago, in a previous life, right after CJ had found out about her status, they'd gone down to one of the tattoo parlors in New York that was willing to work on HIV patients and CJ had handed the guy a picture Sydney had done. It was a small butterfly with rainbow wings and a disappearing body – a pin was stuck through the insects torso and the wings were perpetually dropping. She kissed the artwork and then gently pulled CJ down on top of her. The mattress formed around their bodies, and Sydney decided that if she were to die in this moment, she'd be perfectly happy. She had CJ in her arms and cushions of heaven supporting both of them. "Baby?" She whispered, suddenly, overwhelmed with the need to ask a question that she'd never asked – not in the ten years since CJ's diagnosis. But the earlier conversation prompted the question back to her mind, and now was as good a time as any to get the tears flowing again.

"What is it, Honey?" The tone in Sydney's voice made her look back into the stormy gray eyes.

"You'll wait for me, right? I mean, I don't know what happens when we die but … when I get wherever I'm going, you'll be there waiting?"

"Oh god, Sydney." CJ moved her leg between Sydney's and wrapped her arms tightly around her. "God, honey, of course I'll … don't even … oh honey …" She kissed her neck, her cheek, her eyes and finally her lips. "Honey, I want you to live after I'm gone. A real, true life that only you could live. But, honey, of course I'll be there when you cross over. If you want me to be. I don't know what happens, I don't even like to think about it, but god, I'll be there. If we're lucky, it's going to be ages and eons from now anyway. Don't sit and think about it too much. Really."

"Okay." Sydney sniffed. "I just … it just hit me suddenly. It's going to be hard enough living without you at all … I don't know if I want to face the afterlife without you either."

"Hey," CJ smiled and kissed her again, "whenever you get lost and confused, just remember that death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."

Sydney smiled as her tears evaporated. "Thank you, Wesley."

"You're welcome, Buttercup." They kissed again and Sydney gently rolled them over, moving so that she could taste and tease CJ's breasts while she also worked her hands down CJ's body and between her legs.

In between kisses, Sydney raised her head back to CJ's level and stroked back a stray strand of CJ's blonde hair. "When I told my parents about your diagnosis, my father asked me if it was all worth it." CJ's eyebrows went up at this admission. Sydney had never told her this before.

"What did you say?" She moaned as Sydney's hand slipped between her legs and teased her gently. One finger slipped inside of her, and then a second – breaking their rules, but at the moment neither of them cared.

Sydney gently teased her for a moment, touching a fingertip against CJ's g-spot before she pulled out and moved just enough to get the finger cots out of the bedside table drawer. "I told him that you were the only thing in the world worth truly fighting for, worth dying for." A single tear rolled down her cheek and she leaned in to kiss CJ again.

"It's not worth fighting for." Josh shrugged. "It's not. We either just put it in there or we don't, but we don't let them fight about it. It's not worth it. And I hate to say it, Sydney, but when this comes before the President next year, he will veto it. We need the support of this Congress on many different issues and if we can placate the Evangelical Republicans who would otherwise vote for us by defending the current definition of marriage, then we're going to do just that."

Sydney leaned back in the chair, glanced out the windows of the Roosevelt room, glanced over at Leo, and then finally looked back at Josh. "And then, you should know, that the ACLU will take this fight all the way to the Supreme Court and we will win."

"We're trying to work out a few things, Sydney. If the ACLU could keep a tighter rein on it's horses when the Republicans get back in session, we might be able to get the Republicans to back down from any number of other issues and the Marriage Act will get dropped." Leo took a sip of his coffee.

"You know, you guys have this tendency. You run your guns bold and brave for a few months and then you trip and fall over something and suddenly you're scared. Suddenly the Republicans are the bully in the school-yard and you are again cowering in the corner. The gay rights movement isn't going away, as much as you would like to hope it is."

"I'm hearing a threat under there, Sydney." Josh leaned forward a bit.

"It's my job to defend the constitution, not to make up new laws to protect people. But, that doesn't change the fact that the people who come to the ACLU are usually groups that are marginalized by the people in power. Right now, our case load is filled to the hilt with gay rights groups who need legal services. I am not scared at all about helping them and working with GLADD and LAMBDA to make media noise and to hold up appointments and delay legislation. The ACLU supports the Bartlet Administration, that hasn't changed, but we aren't afraid to also speak the truth of the constitution."

"Legislative affairs says that you've been called to testify regarding the Defense of Marriage initiatives."

"And I will testify, and I'm not afraid to make you guys look bad." It was her turn to take a sip of her coffee. "But I don't want to. You guys need to find your guns again. You keep locking them away."

"Okay." Josh sighed, knowing they were dealing with a loosing situation. "Let's move on to Ryan White Funding. We want to put the reauthorization of that into the Family Wellness Act."

"At how much?"

"Doubling it."

"Will the money go directly to the people who are affected or to the pork projects surrounding Ryan White?"

"You mean –"

"The ACLU doesn't care if you're researching or not, but that money is supposed to go to families. I can't tell you how many cases we're helping with that deal with money not getting to the people it's getting to. The ACLU's position on this is clear, Josh. Every person in this country who is afflicted with HIV and AIDS has the right to be treated. More and more, the insurance companies, companies that your own administration has half-heartedly tried to put some kind of regulation on, these insurance companies are refusing to cover HIV and AIDS treatment. They are refusing life-saving organ transplants and even dialysis. Now, I can sit here and accuse President Bartlet's administration of trying to duck and run, but I've already done a lot of that this afternoon and the record that you do have for assistance for children in all walks of life is exemplary. What I'm reading here, however, is definitely speculative. First off, the wording that it appears you've settled on in your first round with congressional leadership focuses specifically on children who are infected through no fault of their own – when the mothers are infected. But, it does not specify the kind of coverage for these sick mothers, it does not specify protections for them, and it actually writes out some of the protections under Medicare and Medicaid. It also, and this is probably most disheartening, it allows for the companies to deny coverage based on how a person contracts the disease. Women are, across the board, protected less than men and drug users are not protected at all. When a single mother with AIDS is trying to take care of her child, the health of the child is definitely affected. You can't back AIDS relief in Africa and ignore it at home. You just can't."

"We're still working out some of the language." Josh leaned back and looked carefully at Sydney, "But, don't the insurance companies have the right to cover who they want?"

"Leaving that argument for another time, the federal medical programs for those who need them don't have that right. People no longer contract HIV through blood transfusions or tainted hospital equipment. That means that lifestyle choice is being ruled out." She skimmed the notes from Josh. "Now, if you can get people to sign on with assistance for the mothers, we won't have a problem. But, don't exclude older patients in this."

"The Wellness Act does specifically affect children."

"When Congress returns from the break and you sit down to negotiate the Wellness Act, Senator Dole is going to want erectile dysfunction research. Give me a real position on real issues that affect kids and we'll negotiate further." She sighed softly. "Did you know that under current law, if a person with HIV changes jobs and tries to apply for health insurance, they can be denied on the basis of a pre-existing condition?"

"Technically no, they can't." Leo finally spoke up.

"No, they can't, but the companies do it anyway. Josh, tell me, aren't you still battling with your own insurance company about the treatment you received at an out of network provider?" She didn't let him answer, "And, you also have to understand that with more and more pharmacies across the country refusing to fill prescriptions that go against a moral code, people across the country, gay, straight, and kids, are not getting their drug cocktails."

"I'll bring this back to the leadership."

"Good." She flipped the page on the meeting's agenda. "Now, what was this I heard about the administration proposing gun laws that drastically violate the Second Amendment?"

Josh and Leo both sighed and turned to their own notes. "Remind me again why I didn't just hire you?" Leo asked with a laugh, "It would have made my life a lot easier."

"Because you hired a leggy blonde Republican." Sydney just started laughing. "Now, stop dodging the bullet. Literally." She sighed and looked at Josh for a long minute. "Believe me, you guys, no one cares more about gun legislation reform than I do and I know how sensitive a topic it is for the White House. I was on the other end of a phone, trying to find out if anyone was still alive over here. But, all of those personal emotions don't change the fact that the legislation that the White House consistently proposes is working against the second amendment. And as much as you guys would like to repeal it, you can't. So, I'm offering you an olive branch."

"And that is?"

"Work with us. Let us help you draft the legislation so that it's constitutionally sound."

"We can't be seen to be pandering to the –"

"Like you're pandering to the right wing conservatives right now? Oh, yeah, not even CJ can spin that one."

"I don't like being threatened, Sydney."

"We don't either, Leo." She sighed and looked him in the eye. "Let us help you. I don't care how good your guys are over in legislative affairs, you need people who are trained to work within the confines of the Bill of Rights. Let me send a couple of our lawyers over here to sit down with you guys on the wording of the legislation. You're going to have NRA reps weigh in, why not us?"

Leo chuckled dryly. "Because you'll uphold the NRA?"

"Probably. Or we'll be able to tone them down. And if the Vice President doesn't have a seat at the table on this, you guys really will look like idiots."

"Not afraid to tell it like it is?" Josh sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Never."

Josh took the chance to glance at his watch and sighed with relief as he realized time was up. "Okay, thanks for the input, Sydney. We'll get up with you next week sometime."

"I'm sure you will." She sighed and stood up, offering a round of handshakes before taking the time to gather her things. When she was done, and she still hadn't seen CJ come by, she took advantage of the freedom she did have in this building, and wandered down to the press bullpen. Carol wasn't at her desk, and CJ's door was open, giving Sydney a full view of what the other woman was doing. She took a long moment to just watch and smile – when CJ was thinking hard, she tended to stick her tongue out the side of her mouth. The tongue would then flick at imaginary senses, proving over and over that it truly was an entity of its own. This theory was one Sydney had come to believe a long time ago – that tongue was definitely something special.

"Heya." She leaned in the doorway to CJ's office.

"Hey." CJ looked up and smiled. "How did it go with the boys?"

"How do you think?" Sydney rolled her eyes. "But I think I impressed upon them the need to not take minority rights so lightly. You guys … you keep trying so hard and then … anyway, I'm not going to get into it with you. You know it all anyway. Have you eaten yet?"

"Yeah, actually. Danny and I had a lunch meeting."

"Ohhh, Mr. Concannon from the Post." Sydney grinned. "The poster boy for the crush everyone in this country has on you. How was that?"

"Boring." CJ laughed. "Are you headed back to the office since I'm turning down lunch?"

"You look busy. Just, make it home for dinner, okay? I leave for the middle of no where tomorrow and I want some time with you, especially since the President took it away last week with your enforced trip to Portland."

"Can nine o'clock be dinner?" CJ asked guiltily. "I've got an eight-fifteen with senior staff and then an eight thirty briefing."

"Hon, just get home while you are still conscious. I want to carry memories of you screaming my name onto the plane tomorrow."

CJ grinned. "Deal."

"Sydney! You made it!" A short, blonde, comfortably slender woman raced down the dusty steps of the gray farmhouse and across the dirty, muddy driveway. Sydney, for her part, was just glad she'd had the sense to change into jeans and boots on her layover in Chicago. The suit she'd been wearing for her meetings this morning just didn't fit into the farm atmosphere. Then again, it was why she never came back – _she_ didn't fit into the farm atmosphere.

"Of course I did, Mindy." She gave her youngest sister a slightly uncomfortable hug. "You think I'm going to miss my baby sister's wedding?"

"I just thought with how busy you are …" Mindy offered back the same kind of uncomfortable smile. "But I really am glad you're here. We all are." She glanced at the empty car. "No CJ?" The hopeful tone in her voice was unmistakable.

"No, Mindy." Sydney rolled her eyes and went to grab her suitcase. "CJ is tied to her desk at the office, and even if she wasn't, we both knew that she wasn't invited. That's okay, it's nice of you to ask."

"Look, Sydney, we aren't going to spend the whole week you're here fighting. Come on in, Mom has some punch and cookies out and she has a jello mold going – she's trying something out for the reception and it's just driving the caterers crazy."

"You're actually having this catered? This town is big enough now for a caterer?"

"Oh, that's just Peter's family. They brought someone in from Boise. It's great, we're going to have fresh chicken or steaks at the reception and the cake is going to be this marble one that tastes so great."

"Great is your current favorite word I see." She dumped her bag down just inside the door. "Where's mom and dad?"

"Out in the fields with Nathan, they'll be back in a little bit. There's so many guests staying here, but we've got your room set just for you."

"Good. Why don't I go unpack and rescue some of my clothes and I need to call CJ and let her know I made it out here."

"Okay. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Sydney grumbled as she hauled the bags up the rickety steps. She'd left this and her ten brothers and sisters behind for a reason. This place, these people, they weren't her. She didn't begrudge them for what they were – they were a good people, and they believed deeply in their convictions and their faith, but they weren't her people. This wasn't where she belonged.

After hanging the new Dianne Cook she'd bought for the wedding up to smooth out the wrinkles, she also rescued the three suits she'd brought along. While she was here, she'd managed to snag a guest lecture date over at Idaho State University. It gave her something to do besides be lectured about the potato industry. "Hey, Carol." She sighed when CJ's assistant answered the phone.

"I'm sorry, Sydney, she's in with the President right now."

"That's okay. Just let her know I'm safe and here and miserable and that she can call and rescue me whenever she feels the urge." When Carol laughed, Sydney actually smiled. "Thanks." She hung up the cell phone, took a deep breath, and went down to face her family.

There were days like today when she considered just walking out to the podium, announcing her sexual orientation and her HIV status and then daring the world to tell her that it wasn't worth the fight. A pocket veto. A fucking pocket veto. He hadn't even had the strengths of his conviction to chicken out, he'd let it sit on his desk and then Congress had adjourned and every single Congressman had gone back to his district to tout the evils of gay marriage. Next time around, the President's hands would be tied. Did she really think she could continue to work for someone who was afraid to back her own way of life?

The sun set over the Potomac as her route took her past the Jefferson Memorial, and she came to a stop and looked up, over the river, at the marble columns of the Lincoln homage. When he'd dared to tell people that the slaves should be set free, had he ever imagined his words would lead to a civil rights revolution? But now there was a different battle being fought – and her own President, her own boss, was too chicken to come out and make a stand and demand that the Right deal with their own homophobia. Bartlet had such potential, but he ran from his own eagerness, his own drive and now, on the other side of the aisle, the Republicans had convinced Matt Skinner that his own way of life wasn't worth protecting.

Some of the members of Congress, especially the Senators, ones like Rick Santorum and Orin Hatch, those two she could expect to be full of shit, but Matt Skinner? She began running again, her sneakered feet pounded against the pavement of the Mall as she hit mile five and made the turn for home.

"CJ!"

The familiar voice caught her attention and she skidded to a stop before turning and leveling a glare at the much shorter, very gay congressman who stood a few paces behind her. "What on earth could you possibly want, Matt?" She made a point to avoid his title, he didn't deserve it right now.

"To talk to you …" He took a few steps forward.

"Yeah, me too. And I'd like to thank you very much for single-handedly setting the gay rights movement back about three decades in this country. What the hell are you thinking, Matt? This, this one thing, this federal definition of marriage … it's that definition that gives straight people all the rights that we are supposed to be guaranteed. And you've never felt the pain of not being married until you haven't been able to see the person you love in the hospital because you don't have that piece of paper!" She took a deep breath and just collapsed onto the nearest bench.

"Hey, look, don't get all high and mighty on me just because your boss isn't gutsy enough to make the hard decisions and stand behind his party." The Congressman sat down next to CJ.

"Why on Earth are you supporting this?"

"Because there are other fights that I have to take on in my own party and I need support for those." He looked at her. "Hate crimes legislation, Ryan White Funding, and for God's sake, allowing gays and lesbians to serve in the military. What about the right to die measures? What about gay-straight alliances? CJ, all of these causes mean so much more than a federal definition of marriage."

"None of them mean anything if you are supporting government sponsored discrimination. That's what it is, Matt. Government sponsored discrimination. It's what Jim Crowe would have come back from the dead for – do you think that …" She took a breath.

Matt took advantage of the break in her diatribe to interrupt. "I don't see you out there, CJ. We all know you're gay, just come out and say it. Say it for the kids who don't know it. You can't sit there and accuse me of hiding when you aren't even out. And that right there says something about this Administration's feelings on gay rights!" He rolled his eyes. "There are more important issues on the table right now."

She looked at him and shook her head. "Whatever. I need to get going. I won't forget this, Matt. A lot of people here in D.C. won't." She took off again down the Mall, her route taking her back home to the empty townhouse. She'd been with Sydney longer than most people in Washington had been married to their spouse, and yet they weren't given the same rights. There were days when they were absolutely nowhere.

"So, Sydney," her father looked at her from across the table, "how is life in Washington?"

She had to give him points for trying. "Well, we're busy as always. My office is leading some of the talks about the agenda for President Bartlet's administration – which means we get to be in on the budget talks. I've been spending a lot of my time prepping testimony for congress as well as for a case that the Supreme Court is most likely going to hear once their session reconvenes. CJ's doing well, which is great." As soon as she closed her mouth, she regretted the last sentence. The entire attitude of the room changed. Her brothers all looked away, her sisters stared at their plates, her mother closed her eyes and her father just glared at her. "What, dad?" She was a lawyer, she wasn't afraid of a challenge.

"You know better than to bring her up."

She counted to ten in English, then in Spanish, then in Arabic. She counted to twenty in Farsi before looking her father directly in the eye. "You know, Dad, for all the things you taught me over the years, the most important one was that we respected everyone, even if we didn't agree with them. The _her _you are referring to is Claudia Jean Cregg, my partner for sixteen years, my lover, the White House Press Secretary and Senior Counselor to President Josiah Bartlet. She holds a Doctorate in urban political studies from the University of California at Berkeley, a joint masters in Media Policy Advertising and Public Polling from Berkley as well, not to mention her joint bachelor's degrees in Political Science and Communications, also from the University of California at Berkeley. She is a published author, her books and scholarly essays have covered a wide variety of subjects ranging from inner city poling and the adverse affects of conservative ideology when approaching those populations, racism, and the adverse affect of Affirmative Action in the career class. And that's just the beginning. I don't care if you approve or not of my relationship with CJ, but you will, finally, call her by her name. At least to my face. Give your own daughter that bit of respect." Again, she counted to twenty in Farsi before taking a sip of her water and returning her attention to her dinner. After finishing off the rest of her chicken breast in silence, she turned her attention to Mindy. "What time is the rehearsal dinner, Mindy?"

"How is it?" CJ collapsed onto the bed, still reveling at the comfort of the brand new mattress. She really didn't know if her energy boost lately was from the mattress or her health improving.

"How do you think? Hey, do you happen to have a copy of the paper you wrote on small farm growth in the Midwest?"

"Somewhere. Why?"

"I figured if I could leave it for my family, they'd be forced to be exposed to you in some form or fashion that isn't as my girlfriend."

"You're saying that if they didn't know me as they know me now, they'd like me?"

Sydney giggled, "That's how we all feel about you, baby."

"Ha." CJ hoisted herself off the bed and moved down the hall to her office. "What else is going on?"

"Well, everyone is walking around pretending Mindy isn't pregnant. I brought it up with both her and Mom and was shot down, which is probably why I was dressed down like I was at dinner tonight. Mindy's fiancé is a total idiot, I swear to god _I_ know more about the family business than he does."

"What does his family do?"

"Well, they're teachers. He is a drifter, like most RMs. He can't go back to school cause he has to support his kid, so he's a farm hand. Mindy works at the store in town, that brings in a bit of extra money."

CJ chuckled at the forlorn tone in her girlfriend's voice. "Would you like me to quote back the status of my portfolio, your portfolio, and the joint portfolio? Will hearing the amount of money we have set aside in the nest egg bring your little capitalist, elitist heart back to it's full blown pitter patter? I can also read off the list of cases that you're currently working on for the ACLU, and tell you the latest shows at the Smithsonian and the Kennedy Center."

"Oh, shut up. You're from Dayton, which is only slightly less hickish."

"Hey, my slightly hickish town produced Rob Lowe, Martin Sheen, and Allison Janney." CJ laughed. After a minute of hunting on the shelves, she found her file that contained her published articles on rural polling growth. "You want small farm based growth or commercial farming versus small farming and the effect on small, family farmers?"

"Oh, fax over both."

"Where to?" Sydney rattled off the fax number to the office. "All right. I'll send this first thing in the morning. Hey, when they make the movie of my life, who do you think will play me?"

"My vote is always on Julia Roberts." Sydney laughed. "Or Allison Janney."

"Ha." CJ padded back to the bedroom.

"Who will play me?"

"Jodie Foster." CJ grinned. "Or Jorja Fox."

"Ha." Sydney countered. "Hey, I missed the President's comments about the Defense of Marriage thing. Can you e-mail them over?"

"I'll have Carol send the transcript along with the papers."

"You're staffing me out to your assistant. Thanks." Sydney laughed and then glanced at the time. "You get some sleep, okay, baby. I love you and I'll call you tomorrow."

"I love you too. And you get some sleep. Don't let the units get to you too much. Good night."

Sydney waited until it was dead air on the line before setting the phone down. She hated being away from CJ at all, but being away, housed in a world where her family hated everything she was and the town barely remembered her, it was a difficult, difficult place to be.

"Those things will kill you."

CJ snorted and took another drag on the Camel she'd filched from Katie. Sydney was the recovering smoker, it had never really been one of her vices, but the last few days had upset her more than she liked to admit. Between the budding argument over Ryan White funding and the now moot argument over the Defense of Marriage Act, she was seriously considering taking one of the many private sector jobs being offered. Her chance meeting with Matt Skinner last night had upset her more than she liked to admit. "I'll take my chances." She closed the report she was reading and looked up at her boss. "Sorry."

Leo took the cigarette from her, stubbing it out in a nearby planter. "About what?"

"I was contemplating ways to dispose of your body right then."

Leo chuckled softly and then took a seat next to her. "I wanted to give you a personal apology, CJ, over the Defense of Marriage act."

"I don't need an apology, Leo. I need action." She snapped her mouth shut and looked down at the cover of the report on her lap, _Defense against the renewal of the Ryan White Act. _

"I know." He followed her gaze and looked at the report cover as well. "You know that we'll renew the legislation, right?"

"The legislation is too important to not risk renewing it." She sighed. "That's the good thing about this damned disease. You can create a federal definition of marriage, you can ban gay people from serving in the military or adopting children, but you can't cut off Ryan White because people across all walks of life get it. Let's forget the fact that they're getting it because we aren't fighting for actual sex ed curriculum in the schools and because drug use is up and because the only place, still, where AIDS is talked about is in the gay magazines."

"I know." He did know. And it bothered him.

"You want my honest opinion, Leo." She charged ahead without waiting for his answer. "I want the floor fight. I want this to be something done outside of health care legislation. People are complacent now, they've stopped caring that people have this. Ads for protease inhibitors show off these sexy young men and they're only run in gay magazines. Young mothers don't know what these drugs do to their kids, or even that their kids need them. Drug users don't know what …" she stopped her rant. "Again, sorry. I know it needs to be done like this, but if it's going to be done like this, then lets do it right. The majority of Americans won't know or care about this bill. Let's do it right and make sure people live."

"Leadership is going to argue that it means we cut the funding for African AIDS relief. What would you say to that?"

"That people are dying everywhere and if we're going to be the world's policeman then we also need to help out with healthcare too. Tell me, how has the situation changed in the Republic of Kundu?" Her voice was bitter. "Leo, do you know how many underserved populations here are being _denied _medication? How many people have to wait months and months to receive their medication because their insurance company has to "review the case" or because they just don't have the money? If we don't make an actual case out of funding not only research but access to medication, we're going to see …" her voice caught. "I'm a government employee, Leo. I've got damned good health insurance. But did you know that I had to fight to get my anti-virals covered when I was at Triton-Day? And when I was on the road, campaigning, how much I spent every month on my medications alone? I wasn't insured at the time, so I paid out of pocket, full price, for drugs that saved my life. Of the six hundred dollars a week that I made, I easily spent an average of one hundred bucks of that on my medications. Can you imagine what my life would have been like if I hadn't had Sydney to help? Do you know what I went through to make sure that my medications were covered after you guys hired me? I had agent after agent telling me that I had a pre-existing condition."

Leo looked skyward, watching the trek of the clouds for a few minutes. "You want the floor fight."

"Yeah, I do."

"You want to see what –"

"I want the American People to challenge themselves and remind themselves that there is a population here that is being ignored. Leo, what scares the crap out of me, is the straight population that is being ignored, the women who are being ignored. We've become complacent. We don't care anymore. We don't challenge the country to talk about issues like this. Why? Because it's the way we cut deals. We put reports like the one I'm reading right now in drawers and we shy away from what the public knows they should be talking about. And instead we let assholes like Santorum and Hatch encourage conversations about Intelligent Design and amending the Constitution to prohibit gay marriage."

"Do you want to be the poster child for this fight, CJ?"

"No. It's why I'm not out. I thought long and hard about not coming out, you know that, and I still stand by that. There is a real reason that I haven't publicly disclosed not only my sexuality but my health status. I mean, how on Earth would people feel if they knew that the Press Secretary was HIV positive? Public servants don't have diseases like this …" she sighed and looked down at the report cover, "who knows, maybe I should say something."

Leo looked carefully at her and then patted her hand. "If you ever do," he thought to the president's own condition, "we'll be behind you. I mean that."

She just nodded, but couldn't look at him yet. "Thank you." Gathering her jacket and the report, CJ stood up. "I need to get back inside, I've got a briefing."

Leo sighed as he watched her go.

She watched with a sigh as her sister raced around the house, looking for the last minute touches for the bridesmaid gowns. In a family of eleven children, five of them were girls, and of the six boys, all of them were married. That left eleven daughters, total, all to be there with Mindy. Sydney would get to sit outside on a bench. She didn't get to go in and watch her sister be sealed for all eternity. She was fine with that. But still, it hurt to know that she had willingly come back here only to be shunned. The wedding was tomorrow, and she'd promised to stay through for a couple of days to help with a few things.

Rather than help her sister, she let her look like an idiot as she raced around yelling at whoever was in the room. Just before the tirade could turn onto her, her mother appeared. "Sydney, I could use some help in the kitchen."

Pretending to play the part of the dutiful daughter, Sydney followed her mother. "Mom …" she moved to pour them both glasses of water, and cringed at the metallic taste of the minerals from the well. This really was not her place in the world, but these people were her family and she wanted to make it work.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about you since you came home to visit." Doreen moved absently around the kitchen, putting together carrots and oranges for a jello mold, setting out a new plate of brownies for anyone who might wander through. "I didn't want you to come. I guess I never want you to come."

Sydney bit her lip. "It's hardly a surprise, Mom."

"I'm just saying, Sydney Victoria, that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you weren't such a stranger. It's not like there aren't opportunities in Idaho." The older, plump woman looked at her daughter- a daughter she had never been able to understand- and just shook her head. She kept hoping, every day, that Sydney would come to her senses, give up this lifestyle, and come home.

"Mom, there aren't opportunities in Idaho for CJ."

"Sydney –"

"And there aren't realistic opportunities for me here, either. What, I'm going to run the legislative office for the Idaho branch of the ACLU? While I'm the first to admit that the ACLU here needs decent representation, I don't want to be the one defending the militias to the supreme court! I already do enough of that and I hate it and I hate myself for doing it."

"Sydney, you could come back to the farm, help out your sisters and brothers. You don't need to define your life based on her."

"CJ, mom. Her name is CJ. We've been together for sixteen years, you think you could say her name. CJ. Claudia Jean. My partner. My wife!"

The older woman advanced on her daughter, her leather face flashing with anger. "Don't you dare be using that word in relation to her. You are my daughter and I pray every day for your soul, but she … she is not your wife! Mindy, she's about to be a wife, I am a wife to your father but … _her… _she is not a wife! And neither are you! I don't know what you are, but you aren't married and don't you dare try to tell me otherwise! This is reality, Sydney, not some liberal, hippie dream that the people in California put into your brain!"

"No, she's not my wife, Mom. Because we can't get married yet. Not legally." Sydney shook her head. "Anyway, not like I have to defend our relationship to you, but CJ and I make compromises for each other's jobs. We've spent time on opposite coasts, we've moved across the country for each other … she's moved for me more times than is fair and right now, I love where I'm at and CJ's job is the priority in our relationship. She's the press secretary for fuck's sake. That is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"You watch your language."

"Mother." Sydney shook her head, wondering how such a loving, caring, God fearing woman could be so harsh to her own daughter.

"You've lived apart before, what's keeping you this time?"

"Because I am not giving up my life in DC to come back here and work on a potato farm. You have ten other children, plus their spouses, plus your grandkids. Why can't you just accept that I want to be a lawyer in Washington DC and defend the constitution of the United States?"

"Sydney," Doreen Ludlow looked carefully at her daughter. "I am just saying that you don't need to define your life –"

"What, like you define your life based on Dad?" She choked on the words in her throat. "For Chrissake, mother!" Sydney slammed the glass down on the kitchen table. The liquid sloshed over the brim, soaking through the lace tablecloth. "To begin with, I don't come around because you guys don't want anything to do with CJ! Did you know that her father treats me like a daughter of his own? Her brothers have me on equal footing. I go shopping with CJ's niece and I baby-sit her nephew! It took them a while to get used to CJ being gay, but once they did, they realized that she was just like she'd always been! And this very, very devout Catholic family welcomed their daughter and her partner with open arms!" She stared at the cloudy water in her glass. She'd had this fight countless times and it always ended with her storming out of the room in tears. It was over, this was over. After the wedding, she wasn't looking back.

"Well, we aren't like that. We do things differently here. And like it or not, Missy, this is still your home. You can come back into town with your designer jeans and your special boots and your perfectly cut hair but it doesn't hide that this is where you are from."

"This is where I was born, that's all mom. I love D.C. and I love Berkeley and I love Beverly Hills and I love Manhattan. That's where I belong."

"With the fags and the drug users and the pimps and the people walking around covered with all kinds of diseases? You belong with someone like _her_… someone who could infect you with that disease she has!"

The words slapped her in the face as surely as though Doreen had left a handprint. "Don't you dare bring CJ's health into this. She was infected because of a blood transfusion! A blood transfusion! She has done nothing at all in her life to have invited this kind of a disease into her blood stream. She never had promiscuous sex, she never did drugs with needles. She was in a car accident and needed a blood transfusion and, as ironic as it is, that blood transfusion saved her life! If the blood hadn't been there at the hospital, she'd have died back in 1985!"

"And maybe that was God's plan! Have you ever thought about that? Have you ever thought that God intended for her to die? Maybe you'd have given up that lifestyle and come back home and been married! You wouldn't be with that woman out of some obligation –"

"Mother!" Sydney again interrupted, her voice choking as she ignored the tears that streamed down her face. "Don't you dare say that I'm with CJ out of obligation. When Dad got cancer, did you stay out of obligation or because you love him? I'm in love with CJ. And I was a lesbian long before I went to Berkeley. I was born that way."

"No, you chose it."

"Do you choose being heterosexual, Mom? God made me this way, in his own image. And I love myself, and I love my girlfriend. I love her and I'm proud of her and just like you stayed by Dad, I'm staying by CJ. And when God takes her away from me, I'm going to be the one at her bedside. I'm going to milk every last minute I have with her because unlike with you and Dad, I'm not going to have her when we're in our sixties and seventies. The statistics say that I've got maybe, maybe another ten years left with her before her immune system completely falls apart and the dust in the air knocks her over and kills her! Don't you dare stand there and lecture me about love and obligation!" In all the time she and CJ had been together, her parents had met CJ once, for only a couple of minutes at Sydney's law school graduation. Never had CJ been invited to the farm, and never did they miss an opportunity to defame her.

"Don't you talk to me about family. I don't care what you do for a living; you are still my daughter! I can't talk about you to the town, I can't talk about you at church. When they ask what you're doing and if you're still single I lie and say you're dating someone. Sydney, do you know what would happen if the church found out? Do you know what they'd do to the family?"

"So the church and the town and your reputation are more important than your daughter?"

"This town is the reason you went to college, missy! This town buys the potatoes from the farm! Don't stand there and sass how you grew up! I don't care what you say you are now."

Sydney choked again and glared at her mother. "Well mom, you just made it perfectly clear. Apparently I do belong anywhere but here. I'm a dyke, mom. I prefer women. I love a certain woman. I am also a woman, a lawyer, a counselor to the Congress of the United States of America, and I am your daughter. Like it or not, I am your daughter. And I'm done right now. I'm done arguing and I'm done trying to prove anything to you. After Mindy gets married, I'll leave. And I won't be back." She left the cloudy water on the table and headed up to her room. The fight ended as it always did – with Sydney locking her bedroom door behind her, and her mother at the kitchen table in tears.

"How would you feel if I came out?"

"What?" Sydney recognized the voice on the other end of the line, but she wasn't quite sure she'd heard right. "You want to do what?"

CJ chuckled softly, almost mirthlessly. "Yeah. I've been thinking about it."

"It's not a good idea, Sweetie. I mean, from a PR point of view. And it's not cause you're a lesbian, it's …"

"It's because I've got a time bomb waiting to explode in my immune system?" CJ curled up under her favorite blanket and flipped the station to Comedy Central. After the day she'd had, she could use someone poking fun at her and Jon Stewart was bound to do that.

"I'm sorry." Sydney played with the fuzz on her own blanket. "I just worry about you. I don't want the press eating you alive. If you want to come out, you know I'll do a happy dance. You know that. What's prompted this?"

"Everything. Just … everything right now I guess. I'm tired of hiding in plain sight with you, and this whole Defense of Marriage thing only makes me even more irritated. Everyone knows I'm gay anyway, why not just make it official."

"Because everyone knows you're gay. Look the press knows, or at least suspects, and unless they ask you outright, you have no reason to say otherwise. Don't let your feelings over this hijack future legislation. Suddenly the legislation won't be the story, you will be. But, if you want to, I'll stand there at the podium and hold your hand."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything, you know that."

"I still haven't given up on that dream of the two of us before a justice of the peace, putting rings on each other's fingers, and having "till death do us part" mean something in the eyes of the law."

"Yeah." Sydney sniffed. "But we don't talk about death when I'm three thousand miles away from you."

"How else are things? Are you all ready to sit outside the Temple while Mindy gets married tomorrow night?"

"I don't want to be here, CJ. You were right. But they extended the invitation. Really, I think they did it so they could pressure me about how evil all of it is. I don't think I'm coming back after this trip. It's going to be hard, but if …if they can't accept me, there's no reason I need to acknowledge them."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. I'm not going to have anything more to do with them. Not until they can at least accept us. I'm not asking for understanding or unconditional love, but I want acceptance. You're right, my coming back here only undermines what I want from them."

CJ held back the 'I told you so' and just sighed, wishing there was a way to reach through the phone and hold her girlfriend. "I'm here with you."

"Thanks." Sydney sniffed. "What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm about to watch Jon Stewart crucify my press briefing from today."

"What did you do?" Sydney was already laughing.

"Look, it wasn't my fault that Josh isn't capable of keeping his big mouth shut."

Sydney started to cackle. "Get this one recorded for me. I'm gonna go and make some hot chocolate and then try to rest. If I can't sleep can I call you back and listen to you breathe heavily while I touch myself?"

CJ purred into the phone. "Don't get me started."

"I'll call you later."

"I'm done with this." Sydney muttered under her breath as she kicked off her heels. The reception had been predictable – Mormons were simply the most boring people in the world when it came to celebrating marriage. No dancing, no alcohol, and no real chance to celebrate the wedded union of two people. Not that she felt much like celebrating anyway. At least her little twit of a sister could get married in whatever fashion she wanted. After changing out of her dress and into her pajamas, she padded back down the steps and found her oldest brother standing near the couch. "I'm going to go turn on the television and see if they're going to televise CJ's final briefing."

Nathan just looked over at her and sighed. When the C-Span channel turned up only reporters milling around the briefing room, he took his chance to speak up. "Mom's got a point, you know."

"Oh, don't you start."

"Hey," Nathan looked gently at his baby sister. "Give her a break, okay? Look, I don't understand you being gay, but I know that CJ makes you happy. That's good enough for me. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want you to get married to a guy and come back and be the family lawyer, but you're doing what you need to be doing. You'd be miserable and if you're really gay then, you need to be where people will accept you for who you are. And I know that they won't do that here."

Sydney shrugged uncomfortably, and her need to respond was cut off by CJ coming to the podium. "Good evening," came the familiar voice through the TV screen. "Let me start off by saying that the President has had three calls added to his call sheet tonight. All of them are diplomatic courtesy calls, and are going to the French Embassy, the Prime Minister of England, and the Qumari Embassy. There are also no changes to tomorrow's schedule, so don't ask if he's going to be meeting with Senate Leadership before they return from the recess." Sydney chuckled.

"What?" Nathan looked sideways again at her. He had to admit that CJ was a very attractive woman.

"She's lying." Sydney grinned. "When she puts her hand on the podium like she's doing now, she's lying. There's a major change to the schedule, probably Senate leadership, but it's going to be announced tomorrow."

"Oh-kay."

"Any questions?" CJ glanced around the room and chuckled, "Oh darn, Katie?"

"Is there any movement on the administrations attempt to reverse the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy? And is the delay on this issue because you don't want this fight going into a presidential campaign?"

"Well, Katie, that's the same question you asked me right before the midterms and you asked it based on if it was because of the midterm campaigns. The reason for the delay is that reversing the law also takes an amendment to the uniform code, and getting congress to sit down long enough to amend something like that is like herding cats. The White House stands firm in its commitment to allow gays and lesbians to serve openly in any branch of the military, as well as any walk of life they choose." CJ sighed. "Mark?"

"Josh Lyman is putting together legislation regarding health problems that affect children. Can you expand on this?"

"Yes. It's tentatively being titled the Family Wellness Act. Draft legislation is being worked through with a number of different medical and legal groups, and as soon as Congress returns Josh will be leading those discussions on the Hill."

"She's about to get hit with a big one."

"How can you tell?" Nathan was already getting bored, but watching his sister's reactions was interesting.

"Because Mark didn't follow up on Don't Ask, Don't Tell. He's big on follow-up questions. That means that someone big is in the room, probably from the Chronicle. They're going to clobber her." Sydney sighed and imagined the water she was drinking was scotch. "She hates the Don't Ask debate."

"Why?"

"Because it's the worst kept secret in Washington that CJ is gay. The only thing that keeps it from being a story is that she doesn't make it a story, but all it takes is something like this to blow it wide open." She thought back to their conversation last night. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for us during the hate crimes fight? Especially since it was so obviously personal for CJ? God …"

"But if Bartlet is so pro-gay, then why can't she come out?"

"Because …" Sydney looked back toward the kitchen where she knew her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, avoiding all of her children, especially the gay one. "A lot of the people who voted for President Bartlet also think like mom. They are deeply religious people who felt that Jed was able to express his views on their level. But … the minute his spokesperson comes out as a lesbian, then it's game over and they'd vote for the devil before they voted for him ever again. And, once CJ officially comes out, then the HIV story won't be far behind and suddenly there will be pressure on her to resign. Nathan, this is what she's dreamed of her whole life. That right there, making a difference in the world. It will be over if she comes out."

"Aren't there a million liberal places who would hire her for even more money?"

"Maybe. But once you've been fired by the party, they usually don't want to rehire you. And no one with HIV gets hired. They just don't. You keep it secret and hope to god that your insurance covers it."

"No, Tucker, I really don't think that's what the remarks said," CJ's voice interrupted both of them, "although you are well within your rights to characterize them however you see fit. Don't Ask, Don't Tell is a policy that we inherited from a previous administration. It's not one that we like, and we've made that well known." CJ had clearly had it. "All right, that's the news for today. Have a good night and, as always, you'll be paged if anything happens." She stormed from the podium.

"Damn, I missed the question." Sydney sighed. "I'll call her in a bit. She looks tired and I want to make sure that it won't end up being one of those nights where she is in the office until midnight. It happens all the time."

"She's a press secretary. Shouldn't she go home when the press does?"

"She's also a member of the communications staff, contributes significant portions of writing to the President's speeches, drafts all the releases that come from the Oval office, and is a senior counselor to the president on all matters, domestic and international, because she has to comment on them. She doesn't go home until he does."

"Oh." Nathan gave her a bit of a smile and changed the subject. "Sydney, remember something for me. We're also your family. Not just her and not just your friends in Washington. And as much as we don't understand each other, we're still your flesh and blood. Maybe we'd all understand just a bit more if we made a bit of an effort to understand things that we really don't like."

"You used understand like three times in two sentences."

"Maybe because it's important to me." He shrugged. "You're still my baby sister and … I want to make sure we've got a relationship with you. I was the one who pushed for you to come back for the wedding."

Sydney sighed and looked over at her older brother. They really were from different worlds. He looked perfectly comfortable, having changed from his suit from the wedding back into rough jeans and a flannel shirt. She felt perfectly out of place in her satin pj's and with her freshly painted nails. She belonged back in Washington. Even with Nathan trying to reach out, she was more sure than ever that she didn't belong here. But, also, for the first time since she'd come out to him, she saw a beginning – maybe he really was trying to reach out. Maybe, in the future, some kind of relationship could be formed.

"Mom does love you, you know. She just doesn't understand. And you can't expect her to. It's different here than in the city. And you're different, and it's something that scares her"

Sydney contemplated her water for a long minute. Then she shook her head, "Being scared isn't an excuse, Nate. I've been on the campaign trails, and I have sat in rooms with people from some of the most rural and conservative areas. The people there are just as educated, just as well informed. It's a choice to stay ignorant, and Mom and hell … all of you, Nathan. Especially you. You guys, all of you, act like I'm this educated elitist. You have a masters degree in agriculture with a concurrent MBA from one of the best agriculture schools in the country and you run the farm like a corporation, but being educated is a bad thing? You've all made the choice to stay holed up here, not knowing what changes are going on in the world. It's hypocritical, Nathan."

"Who says that change is a good thing?"

"That is the dumbest argument …" She glared at him. "It was a group of liberals who founded this country, Nate. They wanted something new, something different, they wanted to change the status quo. It was a liberal who founded the Church! You follow the teachings of a man who, for his time, was liberal! He wanted a utopian society and he had all of these changes, these different ways of doing things! We're a society built on change! And if you don't believe that, look back at the ways things have changed. The "change is bad" argument only refers to a changing of life from the ways of the nineteen fifties." She looked toward the kitchen.

Nathan sat still for a minute before reaching out to take her hand. "So you going to teach me to change?"

Sydney looked at him and then actually smiled, "Maybe." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "Nathan, I don't want to be alone when I loose CJ, I want my family there, but if you guys can't come around … then I won't … I won't ever come home. Ever. I mean that. I have a family here and I have a family within CJ's family. I want you guys, but I don't need you guys." Suddenly unable to breathe, Sydney pulled her hand away and stood up, quickly making her way up the stairs and into the bedroom. Her mother listened, silently from her place in the kitchen, tears streaming down her face.

"I have gossip for you." CJ wandered back from the kitchen, two cups of Irish Coffee in her hands. After handing one over to Sydney, she collapsed into the overstuffed couch and propped her perfectly pedicured feet up on the coffee table.

"Ooh," Sydney grinned and stretched her feet across CJ's lap. CJ rubbed her arches happily. "What's the gossip?"

"Well, I was wandering by Josh's office tonight and heard him on the phone with someone, setting up a date."

"A male someone?"

CJ laughed. "Well, I don't know many women named Matt."

"Seriously, Congressman Skinner asked him out?" Sydney crowed with laughter.

"Well, one way or another. Anyway, I'm not sure it was that Matt. But it was definitely male. And don't worry, I'll pump him for information tomorrow." She stopped in her massaging to take a sip of her coffee. "Are you glad to be home?"

"Yeah." Sydney sighed. "I mean, it was interesting, that conversation with Nathan last night. He's trying, but I don't know … I don't know how much of a difference it will make. And I wish I could just cut the ties, but they're my family …"

"I know." CJ switched feet. "And I'm here, no matter what."

"I know." She leaned over to kiss her cheek. "And speaking of family … how's your dad?"

"Tim called the other day. Dad had another episode – he was up all night writing and when Tim tried to get him to go to bed, Dad threatened to call the police because he didn't recognize him. It passed, but …he doesn't sound … he's worried. And so am I. I … I don't know if I can handle watching my father loose his mind."

Sydney reached over and twisted a lock of CJ's hair in her fingers. There wasn't anything to say, or anything they could do. It was inevitable, Tal Cregg was going to loose his mind and his body would follow. And, like father like daughter, CJ's deterioration was also inevitable. "I've got a question about you Catholics."

"Yeah?" CJ sensed this was actually relevant.

"Everything is a sacrament for you guys – the sacrament of marriage, of communion, of baptism, of confirmation. Is love a sacrament?"

CJ blinked. "I … no … not really."

"It should be." Sydney kissed her. "Because it's love that flows through all of those other ones. We'll get through this together with your dad, Ceejie. I'm his daughter too."

"I love you," CJ whispered, leaning into Sydney's arms.

"I love you, too." She stroked through CJ's hair with her fingers. "I love you, too."

"I wonder if Molly will be there for my Dad at the end."

"It's the sacrament, right? Till death do you part and all that? She should be there. And if she isn't, we'll be there." She thought about her mother and father, the cancer that kept trying to eat her father alive, and how her mother stood by him, no matter what. "Till death do us part, Claudia Jean."

"Till death do us part." They kissed softly, and, Irish Coffee forgotten, they moved up the stairs and into their bedroom.

_To Be Continued …_

Author's notes:

**LAMBDA:** LAMBDA is a non-profit, gay /

lesbian/bisexual / transgender agency dedicated to reducing homophobia, inequality, hate

crimes, and discrimination by encouraging self- acceptance, cooperation, and non-

violence. ( ,  The Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) is dedicated to promoting and ensuring fair, accurate and inclusive representation of people and events in the media as a means of eliminating homophobia and discrimination based on gender identity and sexual orientation. ( Ryan White Act: Ryan White became, for many Americans, the face of the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s. Born with hemophilia, he contracted AIDS from tainted blood products used to control bleeding. In 1984, when his mother, Jeanne White, told him he had AIDS, little was known about the disease, resulting in a climate of ignorance and intolerance. Ryan's hometown of Kokomo, Indiana united to bar him from school and his family was ostracized by the community. He and his mother successfully sued the school board there to allow him to return to school. His family eventually moved to Cicero, Indiana, where they were welcomed by the community, because of the hostile environment in Kokomo.

Ryan's battle with AIDS and the community put him into the national spotlight. He became a prominent advocate for people with AIDS and spoke of the need for everyone to educate themselves about AIDS and treat those living with HIV/AIDS with dignity. He was the subject of a television movie and he published an autobiography. He died in 1990. Later that year, Congress passed the Ryan White Comprehensive AIDS Resources Emergency (CARE) Act, which now provides approximately $1.5 billion per year to care for people living with HIV/AIDS. (Biography taken from: http/ Defense of Marriage Act/Amendment: Defense of marriage amendments are U.S. state constitutional amendments that have been proposed, and in some instances adopted, to prevent the legalization of same-sex marriage. The term is generally associated with conservative activists favoring such an amendment.

Advocates of such amendments state that they are needed in light of the legalization of same-sex marriage in other countries, notably Canada, and the order of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ordering it to be legalized within Massachusetts based on that state's constitutional "equal protection" clause. Some advocates say that the "_full faith and credit clause_", requiring each state to recognize the actions of others, such as marriage, means that this ruling has essentially legalized same-sex marriage throughout the country, as those who were legally recognized as married in Masschusetts would not become otherwise merely by relocating to another state. (An analogy may be seen in divorces. A former resident of Alabama who moves to Nevada and subsequently is granted a divorce there does not suddenly become married again if they later return to or visit Alabama, even if the Nevada divorce was granted under conditions or grounds that would not have been permissible in Alabama.) Some opponents of such amendments state that "full faith and credit" obviates the effect of such amendments and notes that state laws declaring federal supremacy to be void are in themselves void. _See __Nullification Crisis_

Some amendments and some proposed amendments go farther and forbid a state from recongizing even non-marital civil unions while others explicitly allow for this. Many such amendments were adopted in the November 2004 election and more are pending. The failure of United States Congress to pass the "Federal Marriage Amendment" has apparently led more impetus to this movement. (source: 


	6. Manchester Snows

**Light My Candle**

Shauna Kayleen Brock

**Pairing**: CJ/OFC (Sydney Ludlow)

**Disclaimer:** CJ Cregg is, unfortunately, not mine. If she were, I wouldn't owe what I owe, and I would also be living in LA, writing for the West Wing. So, no, I don't make any money off of her or any of the other characters that were created by Aaron Sorkin (or later on, John Wells, et al.) Sydney Ludlow, however, is all mine. And so are any other original characters who might crop up.

**Timeframe:** Chapter 6 is set during the MS scandal, and gives flashbacks to the first campaign.

_I dream that I've been given a head wrapped in a white tea towel. I can see the outlines of the nose, the chin, the lips through the white cloth. I could unwrap the cloth to see whose head it is, but I don't want to, because I know that if I do the head will come alive._

_ The Cats' Eye, Margaret Atwood_

Chapter Six: Manchester Snows 

There is something freeing, she dares herself to think, about the silence of an empty home. She hates herself for these thoughts, but for a brief moment she allows herself a life that does not include worry. For once, she does not think of the medication, the constant fear of kidney failure, or the reality that she never knows if it will be in ten years or tomorrow that ashes will float down the Potomac. But it is only a moment, and then she remembers her place in the world, a world that includes this hateful disease. Her worries now expand past the bedroom door and down the hall, out down the rose garden, into the skies, and land in a small hotel in Manchester. She contemplates resigning, breaking the rules. The phone rings and the voice on the other end seems fine, if a bit lost and lonely. They kiss across the phone lines. She crawls into bed, and cries herself to sleep and dreams of Election Day and what it would be like to see it snow in Manchester.

**1997**

"Can I pace around the house and tell you why I really don't want you to go, even though I already told you it was a great idea and that you should go and …" Sydney turned and her heart dropped from her chest and into the pit of her stomach. A flash of light, it seemed, revealed to her a version of her girlfriend that only existed in her nightmares – sickly, on the edge of death, not even this miracle cocktail that CJ was finally on could keep her going any longer. She shook her head and took a sip of her jack and coke (was it her fourth?) and it was just CJ, her hair up in a messy ponytail, dressed in her ratty jeans and an old sports bra, throwing necessary items into different suit cases and suits into different garment bags and three pairs of glasses into her purse and Sydney's heart stopped. "CJ, your meds … you … did you make an appointment with your doctor, how are we going to monitor … CJ, honey, please, is it okay that I was lying before? Can you stay home and I'll be your sugar mommy and we can take long vacations in Idaho – I never showed you Shoshone Falls – and we can reclaim our lesbian butchness and get away from high heels and pants suits and we … CJ, this could kill you."

Tiredly, CJ dropped the stack of notes she'd collected on Jed Bartlet onto the couch and moved to wrap her arms around Sydney's waist. For long moments they stood there, holding each other, CJ being strong and allowing Sydney not to be. "We made a promise to ourselves, Syd, a long time ago," she finally dared to whisper. "Not to each other, but to ourselves. If I just let you make the money, where does that leave either of us? I'm going to get sick, it's a part of being sick. It's a part of what I've got. I don't have a choice in the matter. So why don't I live while I'm dying?"

"There's a song in that, you know." Sydney sniffed, trying to find a way to laugh. "Some horrible country song about finding a way to live while you're dying."

"Garth Brooks will find a way to do something with it, I'm sure. Or there's that new guy on the scene, Tim McGraw."

"If it hasn't been already. You know, there's a reason I don't listen to country." Sydney reached for her drink again and watched CJ's mostly bare back as it moved away from her and back to her bags.

"I'll ask around, someone on the campaign is sure to listen to that crap. And, if it the song hasn't been done yet, someone will make it. I'll send the idea in to a PR friend I've got in Nashville."

The laughter started to spill out. "Yes, country music will be happy to start singing about AIDS."

"There's that Reba Macentire song."

"Reba who?" Sydney flashed a grin at CJ and found herself moving across the room to help with the packing. "No, I know about that song." She tossed a blank legal pad onto the "leave behind" pile on the couch – there would be plenty of those where CJ was going. "It made me think of something incredibly morbid …"

"If you're about to ask me what you want my quilt square to look like," CJ leaned over, tears in her eyes, and kissed her girlfriend, "I want you to wait. Something tells me that the best part, the part that I'm going to be remembered for, it's about to come." Over resumes and briefing memos and legal pads and three ring binders, their lips locked again, the fight and the worries fading for just a minute. Sydney pulled back and looked into the blue orbs she'd fallen in love with back when big hair was popular and Madonna was still acting like a virgin.

"You always think the best is right before us," Tears choked Sydney's voice. "I don't want you to go. Not just because I worry that you're going to get sick again or that a bus will crash or that some sniveling aide for the opposition will find out about you and out you, but because I'm going to be in this big house all alone with your car to look after and my roses to think about and I hate being alone. I'm not good at it."

"You love being alone. If we could afford two houses next to each other, you'd be in heaven." The teasing was gentle; a lie to make her partner laugh. Sydney was good at many things, separation wasn't one of them. "Baby, I can't promise that I won't get sick or there won't be a bus accident or that the aforementioned opposition aide won't out me, but that's part of the game. This is politics. I want something real to put on my quilt square."

"I know." She slid her hand down the side of CJ's face. "I know. But you're going away from me and you had a fever last week and your doctor wants you eating only nuts and berries right now and I guarantee that he didn't mean vending machine corn nuts and Capn' Crunch Berry cereal. You're going away from me to what we've dreamed of, together, and they're going to make you hide who you are. You won't get to talk about the things you want to talk about because of what the fields looks like right now. And … God … okay, it's because you could get sick, okay."

"Toby will be there, and I know the two of you. You'll call him after we talk, or before even, just to make sure I'm giving you the whole story. We can only take it one day at a time." Their lips touched again, tenderly, the kiss of two lovers who knew everything about each other and so the closeness always felt new. "Why don't I finish this in the morning."

"CJ Cregg, are you insinuating that I should perhaps take that bra off of you and lead you to our mess of a bedroom?"

CJ laughed and unzipped the sports bra herself, tossing it across the room. It landed on a heap of resumes and business cards. "Well, I took care of the first part." Sydney took her girlfriend's hands, and took care of the second.

**2001**

Sydney sighed softly as she came into the house. She knew CJ was home, she could see the briefcase by the door, the heels kicked off in that moment of anger, the jacket tossed over the banister rail. The silence of their home didn't fool her for an instant as she walked up the stairs, coming to a stop in the doorway to their bedroom. The lights were off, only the glow from the hall cast any illumination into the room and onto the bed. "You okay?" She bit her lip, a million things racing through her mind. CJ had been sick lately, was this slipup a result of that or just exhaustion? Did CJ want sympathy right now, or a smack across the face? She never knew in these moments, not at first, so she stood back in the doorway, watching, and wanting to end the pain she knew CJ was in right now.

"You saw it, hmm?" CJ just stared up at the ceiling.

At the dejected tone in CJ's voice, Sydney knew that her job was to be rational; to pull her back from the cliff she was teetering on. "Find me someone in America who didn't, or who hasn't by now. That was a pretty big fuck up, Babe. I'm actually impressed."

"I banged my hand up pretty good." CJ didn't bother to look to the door – the darkness of the ceiling comforted her more than her girlfriend's dry wit. She knew what Sydney was doing, and she didn't want to let it make her feel better. And her hand hurt. Badly. Bad enough for her to actually say something. This on top of how she'd been feeling – could she tell Sydney the truth, that she thought this was because she was sick, sick in a way she'd never been before?

"Slamming it into something?"

"Yeah." Normally, she'd chuckle humorlessly at this point and they'd laugh about her temper. Tonight, though, she couldn't laugh at herself. Tonight she was preparing to update her resume. "I fucked up, Sydney. God, I fucked up."

"Yeah, you did." Sydney sighed and moved across the dark room to sit on the bed. "Did you put anything on your hand yet?"

"No."

"Do you need to?"

"It's sore, I don't know. I really don't care at this point." She finally turned to look at Sydney, glad she could only see the silhouette of her girlfriend's body. She didn't know if she could look into her eyes right now.

"How long am I supposed to let you feel sorry for yourself?" Sydney gently took CJ's hand and inspected it. Even in the dark she could see the bruises and the cut on her palm that looked like it hadn't scabbed over very well. A chill passed through her body and she didn't dare to glance up – knowing she'd see the familiar shadow in the doorway. Sydney wasn't religious or superstitious, but she'd come to know Lila's presence. She knew the ghost was protecting CJ.

"I single-handedly gutted our bounce back from the MS announcement, Sydney."

"They ramped you up to it. I think the press had some say in it."

"But I'm the spokesperson for the Administration, Sydney. I'm the one it comes back to. It's my job to not get ramped up."

"True." Sydney got up to turn on the light and see about tending to CJ's injured hand. "You can't let that cut fester," she said when she took in the red welt and the pus around the edges of the wedged splinter.

"I washed my hands."

"It already looks infected, Ceejie. Let me do this for you, okay?" Grudgingly, CJ pulled herself off the bed and moved through the now bright bedroom and into their blue bathroom. Gingerly, she took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. Surprisingly, moving was easier than fighting. "What did Leo say?"

"I've never felt so small in my entire life. When he benched me for the final press conference … I almost resigned right then and there." She tried to fight the tears that had been advancing all day. "What was I thinking, Sydney? God, what was I thinking?"

"You weren't. You haven't slept in days, Baby. And it doesn't matter if everyone else is tired too, when you don't sleep, it affects you more." She squirted alcohol onto the cut on CJ's hand, flushing out the old scab and letting the infected blood run for a second. When she was satisfied, she bandaged CJ's sliced palm carefully. "That should heal by tomorrow morning and you won't have to go in with a full bandage, probably a band aid." After peeling off the rubber gloves and washing her own hands she turned back to CJ and kissed her gently. "What else did Leo say, besides that he was benching you for the press conference?"

CJ followed her back into the bedroom, finally alive enough to shed her clothes. "We uh …" she sighed and collapsed into a chair, her blouse half buttoned and her skirt pooling around her ankles. "He yelled at me, called me unprofessional, and we danced around resignation but neither of us said the word yet."

Sydney nodded. She wanted to be horrified, but in Washington, resignation was the nature of the beast. As it was, CJ was going to be the scapegoat in all of this MS mess anyway. "Just see how it goes, honey. One day at a time."

"Seems to be a part of everything for us." CJ finished discarding her clothes and curled up on the bed. "I'm sorry, God." She snuggled her teddy bear, Pokey (given to her by Toby as a substitute for when he couldn't be there) and gave her full attention to Sydney, "I really didn't mean to mope like that." Sanity started to return. "How was your day?"

"Better than yours." Sydney stretched out next to her and gently traced her fingers along the expanse of flesh between the purple bikini panties and the camisole that CJ was wearing. The smooth skin was clammy and little pools of sweat had formed in the pockets of her spine. Running her hand up the protruding vertebrae, she realized suddenly how think CJ was – as if over night the other woman had lost weight that she didn't have to loose. Opening her mouth to ask how CJ was doing, Sydney stopped herself, thinking better of it. In this kind of mood, CJ probably didn't know how she felt. She'd just keep an eye on her. "We're making headway with a couple of cases, but suddenly, our legislative agenda was cleared. The House and Senate both cancelled all upcoming hearings and testimonies." She tried to laugh, "I'm not sure why."

CJ almost smiled and looked over her shoulder at her partner, "Sorry for clearing up all that time for you. Really, we didn't intend to."

Sydney laughed and bent to kiss her. "Get some sleep, Sweetheart."

But CJ rolled over, needing to be reassured, needing to feel alive, needing to feel something more than sick. Rest would come through feeling better, and there was only one way, right now, she could feel better. Her lips captured Sydney's, her tongue forced its way inside her girlfriend's mouth, and she trapped the other woman's hands above her head even while their legs entwined.

**1997**

"So you're CJ Cregg, hmm?" Leo looked up at her and then back to her resume and business card. "I read your book. Good work. Written anything else?"

"Nothing that grabbed the attention of the morning talk shows."

"Columns here and there?"

"A few." She shrugged, feeling completely at ease with her new boss and yet unsure of herself. Something told her she was supposed to feel this disarmed, and she knew Leo McGarry was quite the charmer.

"You've been doing PR work in Hollywood." He set the resume down and looked at her over his glasses, challenging her. "You realize that a Hollywood resume is exactly what this campaign doesn't need. We're already a young staff and Democrats get the "Hollywood" card thrown at them all the time. We're in a race for our lives."

"We're young. We're Democrats. Some of us are rich and connected to Hollywood, some of us are wealthy and connected inside the Beltway and some of us are poor and have never won an election in our lives. We're Democrats. If you want a staff of people who all act and think the same way, who refuse to pretend that they aren't connected to Hollywood but will still take checks from men like Selick and Heston, then you can sign onto a Republican ticket. I hear it's pretty strong this year. _You_ still hired _me_. I'm young and rich and Hollywood. It's what you want." CJ leaned back in the chair and looked at her new boss, accepting the challenge and proving that she was up to it. Now it was his turn to prove himself to her.

"I hired you because Toby Zeigler swears you are the woman for the job." Leo suppressed a smile – he already liked this woman but didn't want to let on. "And I believe him. Your skills at managing a Press Office are well known and any Democrat would want you on their team. Why did you choose this one? John Hoynes would be chomping at the bit to hire you."

With very practiced effort, CJ formed a smile to her lips. She didn't need to bring her own issues with John Hoynes and the man's libido into her very first conversation with Leo McGarry. "Toby came to me first. Anyway, I've been crazy about Jed Bartlet since he was Congressman and I was at EMILY's List. His record on women's rights is fantastic, as well as his work with kids in poverty."

"What's your big issue? We all have one that it all boils down to, what is yours?" Leo looked at her carefully.

"Gay rights." The conviction in her voice pushed Leo back from his desk. "There is an entire population of Americans who are treated as second class citizens. They live in a world where "separate but equal" is a dream to achieve not to obliterate. There's an entire population who are forced to live their lives in secrecy because they could be fired just for being who they were born to be. If that doesn't go against everything this country stands for, I don't know what does." She looked at him for a long moment, wondering if it was right to out herself, to warn her boss that her sexuality could become an issue in the campaign. "I'm one of those people, Leo," the volume of her voice lowered, but the conviction only grew stronger. "And if you have a problem with that now, or think it will become a problem if it gets out in the future, let me know now and I'll walk away and I'll respect you. But don't bring me on only to dump me when things get sticky. If I start, I take it to the end. Wherever that may be."

It took a long moment for Leo to respond. He had been ready for just about anything else that would have come out of her mouth, but this one threw him for a loop. "At the risk of opening up doors that shouldn't be opened, are you in a relationship?"

"Yes." CJ tried to not wring her hands together. She wanted this job. It was bad enough she was a lesbian, but people were fired for having what flowed through her veins.

"All right." He leaned forward, "CJ, you were brought onto this campaign for a reason. And, if a Democratic candidate can't defend having a lesbian on his staff, then we're in the wrong business. But I'm going to have to …" he sighed, and realized he was about to impose the very rules on her that she'd just spoken against. Luckily, CJ opened her mouth and started talking – saving him the trouble.

"You're going to have to ask that I don't speak of my relationship in any kind of public setting and that my sexuality be kept to myself. You would prefer that my partner, her name is Sydney by the way, you would prefer that if she comes to visit or chooses to participate in the campaign in any way, that we do not make any reference to the fact that we are together. If the press gets wind of anything, there will be an official no comment statement released. My financial disclosure form will be reviewed by campaign counsel and worded so that nothing is made obvious."

Leo was impressed, and heartbroken, by her ability to look him in the eye while she outlined how her very life was to be marginalized by him. Her voice remained constant, her gaze never wavered, and when she finished speaking, he believed that she believed it was the best thing for the campaign. "Yeah, okay." CJ's professional smile knifed him. "You know …"

"But it's not different right now, and not yet." She took a breath, glad that he hadn't fired her. "So, what's first for me? We've talked enough about how I want the world to change." She held out her hand for the file she knew was waiting for her.

With a nod, Leo handed it over. "All right, get a handle on this, check in with Toby and Josh, and we'll check back in with each other tonight."

**2001**

"You're meeting with Brian today?" Sydney looked up from her questions to see CJ down her morning pills with a struggle. Suddenly, the world at large didn't seem so important. "Hon, are you in pain this morning?" She frowned, wondering if the cut on CJ's hand had yet to heal. Her girlfriend's skin looked clammy, she was pale – why had she just kept her mouth shut, why hadn't she demanded CJ see a doctor a week ago? Two days ago?

"I'm fine." The thick, pink, sugar coated pill left a bad taste down the length of her throat as she forced it into her stomach. The medication exploded upon impact, heading for her kidneys, fighting to keep her damaged one in play for one more day. CJ knew she was playing Russian roulette, not going ahead and just having the damaged one removed, but it was too much of a risk to her body to do anything to change the way her immune system worked. She'd weighed the options and until her damaged kidney was in full failure (and it kept hanging on, year after year) she wasn't going to remove it. The consequence, though, was the pill she swallowed three times a day in order to protect both her body and the one kidney from the other kidney. In this moment she thanked God that it was the only pill (outside her vitamins) she was forced to take. But her hands were shaking and something told her the vacation from alarm reminders and endless med counting was about to end.

"Liar." But the word wasn't meant to incite, only to show that Sydney knew better.

"Yeah, I'm in pain, but I'll be okay. I'm just tired, really. I haven't slept since this whole mess began and I'm starting to feel it."

"That you're actually admitting something like that to me makes me worry." Sydney poured her coffee, carefully, her shaking hands threatened to spill the burning liquid all over her. CJ never admitted that she was feeling sick – until she was passed out on the floor, or confined to bed, forcing pain pills being down her throat with yogurt or ice cream. "You should make an appointment with Roger."

"Syd …"

"CJ, your skin is clammy, yet you're sweating. You can't swallow a thing. I'm betting your blood pressure is back up around the stratosphere again, and you're about to head into a full-blown re-election campaign. You haven't eaten in three days, and don't hold up the plate you are pretending to work on. Call Roger. At least get in before you head out on the trail."

"If I go anywhere..." CJ started, but sighed, the breath leaving her body strangely drained and she couldn't remember the rest of the thought. A tick started behind her lungs and she began to cough, her tired, thin frame rattling with the force she expelled. Sydney didn't register the coffee burning her own hand or the smashing of the mug (one of her favorites – Hogan had given it to her for Christmas last year) to the floor as she raced over, one hand going helplessly to CJ's back, the other trying in vain to still CJ's movements. Later she would spend an hour picking ceramic shards from the bottom of her foot, but now she only heard the soft, struggled, "I'm okay …" that came from CJ's throat a good three minutes later. "I'm okay. I need some water."

"I'm calling Roger." When she heard no argument from her girlfriend, Sydney's instincts took over. A fresh bottle of water from the fridge appeared before CJ, and before the next round of inevitable coughing could begin, Sydney picked up the phone, hitting the button programmed to send the number straight to Roger's pager. Keeping one arm crossed protectively in front of her, holding her satin robe closed, shielding herself from the world at large, Sydney watched CJ lean forward, her arms in front of her on the table, her head on her arms. Each breath was an obvious effort, and sweat seeped through along her spine, soaking through her light blue kimono. After punching in their number, followed by a 911, Sydney moved back over to CJ's side, gently stroking the sweat soaked hair back from her face. "It's going to be okay, Baby."

"I have to get ready for work, Syd. I can't be late. After what's happened this week… I can't be seen to be hiding." Each word, each breath, took enormous effort.

"I know." And she did. This was the nightmare scenario, this was what they planned for. All they could do was keep moving forward. "I'll set up the appointment time with Roger, and call Carol. We'll work around your schedule. Go on upstairs … do you need help?"

"I think I've got it." The kiss they shared was brief, but tender. Another I Love You. Each step away from the table proved shakier than the last, and Sydney listened for signs of CJ's collapse on the stairs, or the lack of movement from the room just above the kitchen. But twenty minutes later (Roger still hadn't returned and Sydney had placed another call), CJ came into the kitchen again, dressed in a cool linen suit with cotton camisole, and even her four-inch heels. She grabbed the keys to the mustang – a car she rarely drove in the city any longer – and shouldered her bag. "Call me," her voice betrayed her exhaustion. "I'll make my schedule work."

"What if this is for real this time, CJ?" Their lips touched again, their hands linked – Sydney's soft and warm, CJ chapped and clammy.

"Then it's for real. I've got AIDS, the President has MS, and God willing, we're going to win re-election. But right now, there's the aftermath of a crisis in Haiti that is bigger than me, it's bigger than the President, and I have to get in there and help fix it. There's the re-election campaign to plan for, there's the tobacco fallout, and there's even something going on with cows in Brazil. I think. If this is for real it's for real. We knew the ride couldn't last forever."

"You look awful …" their fingers linked tighter.

"Thanks."

"I mean …"

"I know what you mean." Again, the touch of lips, chapped and smooth. "Call me when Roger calls back. No, call Carol first. She'll have my schedule for today. Then talk to me."

"Do you want to wait, I can drive you …"

"I'm feeling better, Syd. It was probably a false alarm."

"Let me see your hand."

"What?"

Gently, she took CJ's palm and turned it over – the cut had yet to heal. What was then a small splinter continued to be red and infected. "It's not a false alarm. If you were healthy, this would have healed up by now." Gently, she touched her lips to the welt. Smooth. Rough. "I'll call soon. I love you." Suddenly the words seemed even more important and she wondered how many times they'd said them to each other, and if it was enough. Did CJ know that she'd be here through anything, and everything that was about to come their way? She blinked and she was back in a messy living room, boxes and notebooks and piles of files surrounding them and CJ in her rattiest jeans and a sports bra, telling her she'd be okay.

"I'm okay, Sydney. I love you, too." Lips touched lips again. The present. And CJ was gone, leaving Sydney with a silent house and a ticking clock.

**1997**

"How is she?" Weaving between piles of her own notebooks, blue binders and bright yellow legal pads, Sydney sought comfort on the deck, deciding to watch the sun set in the direction of the ocean. She loved Beverly Hills, but wondered if she would love Santa Monica more.

"She's saving our asses, that's how she is." Toby found himself pacing as far as the cord on the hotel phone would allow. "She's tough and she's witty and she's got Josh and Sam falling all over her. She's CJ, Sydney. That's how she is."

"You know what I mean."

"And I just gave you the answer. If she is sick, she won't tell me." He hedged carefully. "I share a room with her and I can't tell – and by the way, everyone on the campaign thinks we're sleeping together."

The image of Toby Zeigler being the one to bring CJ into the culture of women-who-have-slept-with-men was enough to elicit fits of giggles nowhere near appropriate for the Director of California's ACLU. Through her laughter, she wondered if Toby knew that CJ had broken her own hymen with a thick vibrator and that the very idea of a man being the one attached to a penis was enough to dry her up for days. She also knew, as her giggles died down, that at night, when CJ was scared, she would crawl into bed next to the man she'd designated her "pokey bear" and Toby would hold her and keep her secrets as the façade of strength faded away. "How is she?" Sydney repeated the question, knowing this time, she would get the truth.

"Is it normal for her to get cold sweats at night?" Toby touched a hand to his bald head, looking across the room at CJ's black toiletries and cosmetics bag, guarded by the stuffed bear he'd bought for her when she joined the campaign. Pokey. She'd named the damned bear Pokey. It touched him.

"Yeah."

"Then yeah, she's okay." He paused again, "You never told me she had a kidney problem."

Sydney paused, amazed that in everything else Toby knew about CJ, he didn't know about her kidneys. "The car accident." She recovered quickly. "It damaged both kidneys, one pretty extensively. It's a gamble – they want to take the damaged kidney out, but they aren't sure how it will affect the rest of her immune system. So, because it's not bad enough to remove yet, we wait. The other one healed up pretty well, it keeps everything functioning." Her thoughts changed and she wanted her girlfriend home, in her arms, where she could be the one worrying about cold sweats and aching kidneys. "She's okay, Toby?"

"I think so. She takes her medication. She stands up to Leo but she's scared to stand up to the Governor, but we're all scared to stand up to the Governor." Toby paused a moment, listening to the talk from the hall outside – it was loud compared to Sydney's quiet breathing. "How are you, Syd?"

She paused, much like he tended to.

Toby waited.

The last of the sun's rays disappeared, the blackness of night encroaching on the twilight blue. "I'm surviving. Is it wrong and cheesy to say I'm not complete without her here? Am I wrong to be angry that she's out doing what she wants to do, even if it could kill her?"

"Campaigning won't kill her, Sydney." Toby lied, but not well.

"Damnit, Toby!" But the outburst ended before she was finished with the words. "I'm fine. I'm busy. We've got a case that is moving toward the Supreme Court."

"Good luck."

"It's not luck that wins in court, Toby. It's justice."

"I love that you still believe that, Sydney. There's hope for justice after all." He looked over, the latch on the door turned and he held out the phone. "CJ, it's your better half."

Sydney's call of "Good-bye, Toby" could be heard by both of them as CJ took the phone and shooed Toby from the hotel room. Sydney could hear him complain that he wanted to be there for the inevitable phone sex, and she continued to giggle, even after her girlfriend was alone.

"You doing okay?" CJ's voice came through the line, concerned more for her girlfriend's sanity, "How's the case coming?"

**2001**

"You called for me?" Toby stepped into Leo's office and closed the door behind him.

"I need your help."

"Not unusual." Toby sank into one of Leo's chairs, wondering, as always, how something that looked so uncomfortable could be anything but. "What is it?"

"CJ and I talked about an hour ago." Leo frowned over his glasses before taking them off. "She's offered to tender her resignation."

It was rare to actually feel the frown lines cross his brow, but in this moment, Toby did. There was only one reason CJ would offer to step away from the Administration, if she thought her presence would hurt them. "There's more to it than Haiti, she's recovering from that. It was a stupid move to bench her, but …" He through Leo at an invisible enemy that raced through CJ's blood stream. Didn't CJ know they'd be behind her?

"We can revisit that argument at a different time. Right now, I want you to talk her out of resigning."

"It's more than Haiti." Toby repeated. Something heavy settled onto him. "It's more than Haiti."

"Yeah." The men stared at each other and Leo nodded, accepting Toby's silent reasoning.

"She can't resign, Leo. She can't. Her health will get out and can you imagine the image that would send, that red flag of surrender to the press and the public that anyone with a degenerative illness doesn't deserve to serve the American People? She can't resign, and she can't go public because if she does, it's another endless round of "what are they hiding now". What's next, Sam's a cross-dresser and you have an illegitimate family back in Vietnam?"

"Toby …"

"She can't resign!" He rubbed his forehead. "She can't. We'll deal with the inevitable leak when it happens, but she can't walk away now."

"And I brought you in here to tell you that. I also brought you in here to say that she's still going to bring it to the President and after the speech in New Hampshire, provided he accepts, she's leaving. We can't let that happen. We can't take the heat and I don't want to loose her. You need to talk to her. She won't listen to me."

"It's something more. It's … it." Toby paused, his hand on the cold doorknob as he felt his body flush with hot panic. The two men looked at each other, a silent understanding between them – this was more than Haiti. CJ would never walk away during a crisis.

**1997**

CJ paced, keeping an eye on the door and an ear out for her pager. Toby would be wondering where she was. "Yes, my doctor should have faxed over a prescription earlier today… Cregg. Claudia Jean Cregg." She collapsed onto the bed, staring at the clock; she had to take her pills in an hour. "What do you mean it hasn't been filled!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but for a refill like this, we need an actual prescription; we cannot accept a faxed one."

"My doctor called you! He confirmed it!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but as a rule we don't fill prescriptions of this nature. You have to understand we don't get much requests for medication like this in these parts."

CJ swallowed the immediate response to the man's idiocy. "What would it take for me to be able to get my AZT filled?"

"Ma'am, we'll need a live scrip. I'm sorry. And you'll need to have it here soon, we close in two hours." The line went dead and CJ turned back to her bag, immediately digging through every paper, every bottle, every corner, searching for something, anything. She needed her pills.

"Damnit." Finally, giving in, she grabbed her empty bottle of AZT and raced for the Governor and Abbey's room, cursing herself for not having the foresight to get her doctor to send her a couple of spare prescriptions. Every other pharmacy had accepted the faxes. _Please, God, let her be alone in there._ She knocked, heard movement, and after a moment, Abbey's smiling face appeared. "Hello, Ma'am." CJ shifted uncomfortably.

"CJ! This is a nice surprise. I thought you'd be down with everyone planning out the events for tomorrow."

"I should be, but I had some personal business to take care of and as it turns out …" She trailed off, her eyes focusing everywhere but on those of the future (she felt) First Lady.

The doctor in Abbey kicked in and she stepped back, allowing CJ into the room and even glancing around after she was through to make sure no one had seen her enter. "What is it, CJ?" A million different reasons for why CJ was on her doorstep flew through her mind, but none of them, she knew, were accurate. "Are you feeling all right?" She knew that CJ had been fighting a cold, she'd brought orange juice in herself the other day; Toby had mentioned a high fever.

"I …" there was no good way to do this. "I really need a favor, and you need to know that I would never take advantage of you but the pharmacy won't accept the faxed scrip from my doctor and if I don't take my meds in an hour, my system is going to go completely wonky."

"What are you talking about, CJ?"

She closed her eyes, said a quick prayer, and handed over the empty AZT bottle. "With this bug I'm fighting, I can't afford to even be late for a single dose."

It took Abbey a long minute to process what she was reading. She read the prescription on the bottle once, then twice, and after the third time, while still trying to grasp the concept, she lost her grip on the small plastic bottle. "What do you mean they won't fill this?" She looked up at CJ. "This is a life saving …"

"If they have, they won't tell me. I'm down to my last thread, Abbey. By this point, I'm used to being pushed around and the jerk probably thinks ... oh who cares what he thinks other than he thinks he can push me around. I don't care. I have to take my pills. I'll fight the good fight against discrimination once my t-cells are measurable again."

Abbey opened her mouth to ask all the questions running through her mind, but the look in CJ's eyes stopped her. "All right," when she reached for the bottle again, she was able to hold on, and a few seconds and pen strokes later CJ had authorization for enough AZT to last a month. "When you get back here, take your meds and then come see me. I don't care what meetings you end up blowing off, I want to know your health, how you got this, all of it. If you're going to be on this campaign, I am personally going to keep an eye on you. You need a doctor looking after you, CJ."

CJ opened her mouth to argue, but that could come later. "Of course, Ma'am. We'll talk when I get back." Before Abbey could get another word out, CJ raced toward the pharmacy.

**2001**

"You know what gets me the most?" Sydney came out of the kitchen, two steaming plates in her hands. CJ poured wine, trying to show some interest in the late dinner. It wasn't much, just spaghetti, but her stomach had been on edge all day, and her appointment with Roger hadn't exactly left her feeling like the super woman she knew she was supposed to be.

"What?" She kissed Sydney's cheek before settling down at the table, trying some sense of normalcy. Sydney did her best to ignore the pills CJ popped into her mouth, and CJ tried to swallow them without screaming in pain.

"That you can't talk to me until this is all over."

"That's not completely true. We're talking now. I just can't talk to you about anything related to well … work." She gave half a smile, desperately trying for the cheeky grin. Sydney only graced her with a frustrated look. "Honey, I don't want you getting hauled in front of the committee and the grand jury … Brian thinks it's best."

"Which is why he's our lawyer and not me." Sydney reached across the table to take CJ's hand. Her next words were lost in the flinch of CJ's fingers and the clammy touch of her skin. "You're sick." A week ago, the words coming from her mouth had been panic, worry that something terrible was on the horizon. Today it was just the truth, the God-Awful, painful more real than anything they'd ever experienced truth. "Do you want to skip dinner and just go to bed?" No. She pulled the words back in, "Eat a few bites, and then you can go to bed. Why don't I get you some orange juice?" She was out of her chair and around the table before CJ could take a second breath and call her name. She found security in the open door of the refrigerator, the sound of pouring juice, her reflection in the glass. "God, you're sick." Had she said the words out loud? Were there tears behind them? She turned and saw her girlfriend, years younger and a continent away, teasing her with a fallen sports bra and jeans ripped in all the wrong places. The juice glass started to shake and Roger's words from only a few hours ago threw her back, full force and she blinked to see CJ standing there, twenty again, her long hair curling out of control and her blue eyes shining. Young, healthy, full of promise and vigor and the best jump shot Berkeley could have had – if she hadn't been injured in that final game at Dayton. But somehow it was CJ, her CJ, tired and sick, who caught her. Caught the glass before it slipped out of her hand and scuffed the tile in the same place as the coffee mug from … had it been a week, less than a week, ago when she'd scalded herself with the hot liquid while she raced to CJ's side? Now CJ took the cold glass from her and their arms wound tightly around each other. "You're sick," she whispered into CJ's ear. "God … it's happened." She was supposed to be the rock in this moment, but it was CJ who held her up, held them both up. Sydney felt hot tears on her neck and wasn't sure if they were hers, or CJ's.

"I'm fine, Syd." She wasn't fine and she knew it. The room was starting to spin.

Holding on, clinging to her because if she let go the world would sweep CJ away and she'd be left alone in a house where the music would be drowned out by the ringing of an alarm clock telling her that her time was up, Sydney planted a kiss to CJ's clammy skin. Even as she pulled her head back to look into her partner's tired eyes, she refused to let go of her hands. They kissed, smooth lips against each other, and Sydney tasted life. "You're sick." She repeated as they separated, but the desperation was gone from the moment. "We knew it would happen eventually. You up to eating?"

"I can try." CJ answered honestly. "These new pills make me a bit woozy."

"You shouldn't go to New Hampshire tomorrow."

"I'm going."

"Are you resigning?"

"I don't know yet."

"Fair enough." Their hands separated. "Come eat."

**1997**

"It's been … twelve years now." CJ curled up on the couch in the Bartlet's suite, sipping at coffee she couldn't really taste.

"Wow …" Abbey shook her head. "How?"

"Blood transfusion. There are times I wish I could tell people that in my misbegotten youth I did drugs with needles or had sex with dangerous men, but I was in a car accident. Actually, I was leaving the funeral of a friend who had just died of AIDS."

"Ironic."

"Unfortunate." CJ sighed softly. "Five years later I got a letter telling me that I might be sick and lo and behold, I was. I'm lucky. I respond well to the drugs and I'm pretty healthy overall. I have kidney problems as a result of the accident and the drugs, but right now staying on the medication is better for me than not. When they perfected the cocktail last year, I went on it and it's really helped."

"And you deal with this alone?" Abbey wanted to put her arms around the younger woman and hold her.

"No," CJ smiled. Hell, if she was admitting this she could talk about Sydney. "My partner and I have been together for thirteen years. We met at Berkeley, she's now a lawyer for the ACLU."

Abbey started to laugh. "CJ, I had no idea."

"I blend well."

"You do." She took another sip of her coffee. "Thirteen years, hmm?"

"Yeah."

"How does she handle you being on the campaign trail?"

"Not well. She hides what she's going through pretty well, but I know she's upset."

For an instant, Abbey contemplated bringing CJ into the circle of knowledge about Jed. But not even Leo knew yet, and it wasn't fair to breach that level of friendship. "Being the loved one in that situation is never easy."

CJ gave her a bit of a smile. "No, it's not."

"I need the name and number of your doctor so I can call him and let him know that I filled the scrip for you. I also want your permission to talk to him about your condition so that I can keep an eye on you."

"Abbey …"

"I won't go overboard, CJ. You should know that by now. But there isn't any reason for you to have to be sick by yourself. If something goes wrong, you need to be able to come to me."

She sighed softly. "All right. You have a point and I know it will make Sydney feel better."

"Sydney? That's your partner's name?"

"Yeah. Sydney Ludlow. She's from this Mormon family in Idaho – the family business is potato farming. They don't like me much."

Abbey cracked up. "No, I can imagine not."

CJ giggled and took another sip of the tasteless coffee. Part of her hoped that it wasn't her taste buds, that the coffee was indeed lackluster, but it wasn't the case. She could smell the aroma – weak as it was. She wondered if she would ever be able to taste food again – if eating from now on would be limited to food items she dreamed of – that way she at least would know, somewhere, what it was she tasted. She had memories of the sensations of salmon and the sweetness of sugar. Now, it was simply hot or cold. The guys teased her about her salad diet, only Toby knew it was because she knew she wasn't missing much by only eating lettuce.

Abbey watched her sip at the coffee, "Can't taste it, can you?"

She swallowed and looked into the dark liquid, "No. But I remember it."

Abbey tried to smile, but her thoughts moved to the small black bag in her suitcase, filled with illegal prescriptions of beta-seron, the syringes, the vials. She wondered if this was the right thing to do, if getting the right man elected President was worth so many casualties. But two hundred years ago, her husband's ancestor had signed the Declaration of Independence and that act of courage, of risking causality, had led them to this moment, here in this hotel. The right choices always involved death – somewhere. "It's bitter," she said, waving to the dark liquid inside the cheap plastic hotel mug. "It's bitter, and it's weak and it tastes like the minerals that seem to be found in all tap water today. You aren't missing much."

"I like bitter coffee," CJ traced her finger around the rim. "Sweet coffee is too much like dessert, it makes me sleepy and comfortable. Bitter coffee serves the purpose of the caffeine and adds to staying awake."

Abbey laughed while CJ smiled.

**2001**

She wasn't supposed to pick at scabs, but she was and she did. She also wasn't supposed to yell at her boss, and she had. And, apparently, she wasn't supposed to resign, as was evidenced today in that barn. Fuck. A barn. She supposed there was a story to be told – the President of the United States begging her to remain while he stood at a music stand in his barn on a farm in New Hampshire, but right now all she could think of was the barn and the pitchfork in her line of sight, and how he'd lectured her and she'd yelled at him. He'd still asked for her help, told her he needed her. Would he still need her when she came clean to him or would he think she'd been right in the first place? Was it smart to stay on? Her health status would come out, it would be leaked, and suddenly it would be story after story of the Bartlet Cover-ups. She needed to get out before it looked like she left because she was sick.

The new medication made her airsick. An unfortunate side effect she'd discovered on the first flight, but so far no one's shoes had been graced with her attempts at eating. So far no one had noticed that last night she barely sipped at her wine and her meals went mostly untouched. No, that wasn't quite true. Toby had noticed. She didn't know how he did it, and as always she chalked it up to Toby being Toby. He could read her mind and he knew everything about her – well, almost everything. She was sure that he didn't know (unless Sydney had told him) that she'd never been with a man. She'd never experienced that – and she didn't want to. Yet, there were times she wondered, contemplated what it would be like to feel Toby's passion from inside her body, not just have it hurled at her with his words, but they were the thoughts of a condemned and curious woman, not someone who was turned on by the thought of a naked man. Suddenly she wanted Pokey, but he was stuffed into her suitcase, deep in the belly of the plane, cold and alone. Maybe it would be better to leave him with Sydney when she traveled.

Any other day, flying back to DC would fill her with excitement and a joy she'd never been able to fully explain. The pulse of the town energized her and more than once she thought beyond her years as Press Secretary and wondered what else her Doctorate could provide. Already she served closer to the President than most people in her position, and already she'd broken barriers in Washington. When she visited the club and sat with the crusty old men who had all once stood behind the podium, she reveled in their respect for her and her abilities to work the press and also be at the President's side. She didn't tell them that the secret wasn't relying on the hierarchy to give her information; it was knowing when to excuse herself from the meeting. She didn't tell them that her code word clearance was higher than all of theirs had ever been – it didn't matter, she still didn't really understand foreign policy. But today, the trip back toward Andrews only left her wondering if keeping her job really was the best thing. Did the President really need her?

Did a job wait for her after Press Secretary? For a while, those four weeks between screwing up and then being told she was needed this afternoon, she'd toyed with accepting one of the constant job offers. EMILY's list wanted her back, Chief of Staff to the Minority Leader in the House, lobbying for this cause or that cause, News Director for any station she wanted. But none of it _was_ what she wanted – she wanted to be here, right now, on this plane, working with a man she believed in. She was angrier than the rest of the staff, she had a right to be – but she also understood the President's secrecy more than any of them ever would. Politics was perception, and the people perceive what they want. She started to laugh.

"What?" Toby leaned closer, glad to hear the sound coming from his best friend.

"Don't you think it's funny, that this crew got him elected? Putting aside the President's MS – Leo's got drug and alcohol problems, you're an angry drunk, Josh can't see past his teenage arrogance, Sam can't see to not trip over his feet, and I'm dying of AIDS." Her laughter continued, soft, ironic. "In a world where politics is perception, we've managed to get the people to perceive a hell of a lot."

Toby also started to chuckle, wondering if he could come up with a good way to insult Josh in this moment. It failed him. Instead, he took her hand and turned it over, looking at the angry and as yet fully healed scratch on her palm. The scab was gone – now just an angry red welt. "Full blown." It wasn't a question, but a statement of angry and disastrous proportions.

"Yeah."

"Prognosis?"

"I'm going to die." She leaned her head on his shoulder, the real Pokey as comforting as the stuffed one. "But so are you. You smoke those cigars and you drink too much."

"How long?"

"They never know. I'll have this for years, Toby. Years and years, or I'll die tomorrow. Don't worry, I've got my "incase I get hit by a bus" file. Carol knows where it is."

That struck him as funny and something told him to remember that file, even though he knew he would forget. But he laughed, hard and full, he laughed in the face of death and CJ joined him. She was right, he drank too much.

**1997**

Never in her life had she been so happy to be in California. While the rest of the crew settled at the hotel, she took full advantage of the extra couple of hours, snagged a cab, and held on as the man from Mexico City careened up the hills to the familiar Beverly Hills street, the one so near the entrance to Bel Aire. Out in front, washed and waxed, were two babies. One, a 1965 mustang convertible, the other a six foot tall Goddess with black hair and green eyes.

Sydney looked up from the rose bush as the cab pulled into the driveway. Her heart jumped into her throat, she didn't dare to think that maybe, just maybe … oh God, it was her. "Ceej!" The gardening gloves came off and before CJ was even completely out of the car, she had her arms around her girlfriend. "Oh God, you're in town early."

"Yeah. Thought I'd come up and surprise you." Before she could get any other words out, Sydney's tongue invaded her mouth and only sheer force of will kept them from ripping each other's clothes off right there on the front lawn.

The door banged shut behind them, threatened to bounce back open, and CJ somehow managed to lock it before Sydney divested her of her blouse and her jeans. "How do you do that?" She laughed as she stepped out of the confining denim and moved toward the stairs that led to their bedroom.

"Do what?"

"Manage to get me naked so quickly." CJ giggled as Sydney threw her onto the bed.

"Practice. Want. Need. Desire."

"Okay, Counselor, you don't need to charge by the word with me." Their lips touched, smooth, perfect. Skin on skin, breast to breast, long legs twining together as soft fingers touched and explored. Years together had led only to knowledge and further exploration – boredom in bed was for the boring. Even the well known touches – the tongue on the inside of CJ's thigh, the fingertip against the small of Sydney's back – the comfort in the touch only led to heightened pleasure; there was trust there, and love. And the knowledge only made the climax even stronger as Sydney cried CJ's name while she trembled around experienced fingers, and CJ whimpered as their bodies rocked together, sweaty, each move of her clit against Sydney's driving her higher until she followed Sydney over the cliffs headfirst into the soothing water of afterglow. All was perfect and CJ found herself drifting to sleep, cocooned in the warm arms of her girlfriend, when reality shattered their bubble.

Her pager shrilled.

"Ugh..." CJ rolled away from the comfortable pillow of Sydney's breasts and reached for her pager.

Sydney just chuckled as she ran her fingers through CJ's tangled hair. Two months of not touching each other and almost no privacy even for phone sex (Toby's presence in the room with CJ tended to be a downer for the two lesbians) had left both of them wanting. "Tell your boyfriend that you're naked and busy." She moaned as CJ reached for the bedside phone to return the page.

"First of all, ew. Second of all, shut up." CJ gasped as Sydney leaned over to latch her lips around a nipple. "What do you want, Toby?" She asked when she heard his gruff voice on the other end of the line. Sydney continued to tease her nipple into a peak, twisting the sensitive tissue in her fingers before lathing it with her tongue.

"We're meeting about the speech over dinner. I'd get back here if I were you."

"I'm kind of naked here, Toby." She didn't bother to hide her moan when Sydney slipped her fingers between her wet folds. "When do I definitely need to be back there?"

"If you get back here by five, I won't out you. You walk in the door at five oh five and I'm giving Josh fantasies to fill his lonely nights with." He chuckled. "You know, it's time you told everyone about my competition. I'd like to no longer be looked at as the guy who is cheating on his wife."

"Yeah..." she whimpered. "I'll think about it."

"You have an hour, CJ."

CJ hung up on him and opened her legs more to Sydney's fingers. A perfectly manicured nail scraped against her sensitive clit and she gasped. "God, are you trying to kill me?" The words were out before she could stop them, and she felt Sydney still for a brief moment. Their rule was they never joked about death.

"I should let you shower." Sydney moved from playful to needy, holding and nuzzling CJ's still sweaty body. Had they overdone it? How was she feeling? Was it good for her heart to be racing like that?

"No, you shouldn't and I'm sorry about the crack. Syd, I'm fine. Really. Couldn't you tell?"

This actually coaxed a laugh from the other woman. "Yeah. I could." The kiss this time was slower, teasing, gentle. "So do they all know yet?"

"No. But Toby's threatened to out me if I'm late."

"Then you shouldn't be late."

"Maybe I should be." Their lips touched again. "Right now, I have more important things to think about."

**2001**

"Remember that night in California?" Sydney handed over the glass of Chardonnay – fresh from the Cregg Vineyard – and curled up next to CJ on their over-stuffed couch.

"Hon, we lived in California for years. Want to narrow it down?" Her ten PM pills went down with a sip of the smooth white wine and she curled her stiff and tired body against Sydney's, not even bothering to conceal the sigh of contentment and security that escaped her entire being as Sydney slipped an arm around her.

"You were campaigning the first time, you were home after two months. You'd been sick on the trail and hadn't told me, but I knew anyway cause I was getting these stealth updates from Toby."

"Stealth updates I knew about."

"That doesn't matter. You'd been sick but you came home healthy. The meds kicked in, and your inner strength kicked in. It'll kick in again."

"How do you know what I'm going to tell you even before I open my mouth?"

"I know you. You walked in the door tonight and I could tell just by looking at you that you aren't going to resign and I'm betting the President begged you to stay." Her long fingers worked their way through CJ's hair. "You're sick, but you came back healthy. I thought about begging you to resign anyway, but it would only kill you faster."

"I'm sick now. And I still haven't made up my mind about resigning. I might have to anyway. This is going to get leaked."

"You have to tell the President. And Jed Bartlet will stand behind you. You should know that by now."

"I still have to tell Josh."

"That seems to be the hardest thing. Telling Josh anything, actually."

"This is going to kill him." CJ closed her eyes before taking another sip from the glass in her hands. She could feel the liquid flow down her throat, stinging at the sores in her esophagus, and settling into her stomach. If she concentrated, she could pretend she felt her liver going to work against the drink in her system. It was her favorite game – to see which of her internal organs she could feel as they did their job all the while her white blood cells attacked the organs – a real life game of Risk that she was, at the moment, losing. "No, Josh can come later. I have to tell the President."

"How do you think he's going to react?" Sydney pressed a kiss to CJ's slightly fevered forehead.

"Jed Bartlet is an unknown in many things, Sydney. But I know him well enough to know that it will break his heart. He's going to be confused and scared and wonder for a minute if he can get it by standing next to me."

"And then he'll get over it and hug you and tell you that the White House is behind you and that you don't have to resign?"

"Honey …"

"I'm behind you, Baby. And so is the White House." Sydney sipped her own glass – jack and coke (her first tonight) and pulled CJ tighter against her body. "Are you sure you want to do this? To risk everything by risking yourself on long flights and longer days and trips to disease ridden countries?"

"To not risk it would be to loose everything, Sydney."

"Promise me you'll pace yourself."

"I promise."

"Promise me that you'll take your meds on time."

"I promise."

"Promise me that you'll represent the White House with honor and dignity."

"I promise."

"Then we're good." They kissed. Smooth lips touched up with cherry Chap Stick brushed against each other, soft, gentle. Tongues danced and hands set aside drinks and pushed away clothing.

"Sir …" CJ found herself walking into the room on her own power, despite the fact that it had been Toby's hands pushing her into the outer office. "Sir, I need to talk to you about something."

Jed Bartlet looked up into the face of his embattled Press Secretary and frowned. She was a senior counselor (something rare for a Press Secretary), a friend, a daughter, and a damned good poker player. But tonight her poker face was down and he could tell something was wrong. "CJ?" He gestured to one of the chairs, "What is it?" He walked to sit across from her, his speech about needing her to remain on as his Press Secretary on his lips – but the face she gave him told him this was something different, and he just gestured for her to continue.

He remembered seeing her mouth open and watching her lips move, but when asked years later, he would admit he could not remember hearing the actual words, only that they landed, hard, a sucker punch to the kidneys, leaving him gasping for breath as a wind seemed to pick up and race through the Oval Office. He turned for a minute, expecting to see the doors to the portico blow open and Mrs. Landingham standing there. Only to himself would he ever admit that he had seen a different shadow – man or woman he couldn't tell – but the gaze of the apparition was loving, and directed to CJ.

The wind rushed past his ears and in this moment he knew how Toby had felt and why the other man had railed against him and a part of him wanted to rail against CJ. He understood the disappointment in Sam's eyes, the loss in Josh's and why Leo had demanded that CJ be told alone. He wanted to yell at her, to hold her, to comfort this surrogate daughter; he paced instead. So many questions, he wanted to know why she hadn't told him, how it had happened, but none of that mattered. He remembered what he'd screamed at Toby and so he turned and faced her, looking into the blue eyes he loved. "How are you feeling, CJ?"

"I'll be fine, Sir. Really. Thanks for asking."

To Be Continued in The Hard Part – it's always Telling Josh.

Story Copyright May 2006


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